


Entangled

by bigredbutton



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Accidental Bonding, Consent Issues, Dom/sub Undertones, Father-Son Relationship, M/M, Magical Artifacts, Soul Bond, more tags to be added as needed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 09:39:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 50,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7309813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigredbutton/pseuds/bigredbutton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Legolas stumbles across a dangerous magical artifact, and it causes an abrupt shift in his relationship with his father.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

Legolas had to wonder, as he glanced resignedly around at the assembled party, if it was somehow a requirement for elven lords to have both ego and a temper before they could become lords, or if it was something that just happened to develop over time once they came into power.

In Thranduil’s case, for instance, the things that could be classified under ‘People, Places, and Things That Exasperated and Annoyed His Father’ were extensive. He’d even attempted to compile a comprehensive list during a particularly lengthy recovery from an injury some years ago, although he had had to give it up before he’d finished. Giving it up had seemed a wise decision – the only decision –after witnessing the steadily darkening expression on his father’s face as he’d read it after retrieving it from Legolas’s hurried attempts to hide it after he had accidently left it out in the open during one of his father’s visits.

It turned out that his father _strongly_ objected to being compared to a great big angry bird with its feathers all in a ruffle.

The recollection nearly made him laugh out loud, the only thing keeping him from chuckling aloud was the knowledge that laughing aloud at this point would focus all those simmering tempers upon himself. That idiotic minor lord who was one of those accompanying Lord Celeborn to this ill-fated meeting seemed particularly keen to find fault with everything the Greenwood delegation said and did.

Legolas was about to offer himself up on a silver platter to that greedy little weasel more fodder to sneer at, nor did he wish to give his father reason to doubt his decision to include Legolas in the delegation him by some breach of decorum. 

And, as much as he occasionally enjoyed winding his father up into an impassioned tirade – Thranduil was magnificently eloquent and graceful even mid-rant – it was still captivating when that deceptively benign ire directed itself elsewhere.  
Not, Legolas thought as he watch his father narrow in on that arrogant little spiderspawn, that he had ever received that particular combination of aggravated disgust being directed at Thranduil’s current source of ire. 

“And _what_ ,” Thranduil said disdainfully, “Did you expect would happen? That the orcs would-”  
Thranduil was cut off abruptly by said target, who attempted to defend his position by interrupting Thranduil midsentence with some non to subtle insults as to Greenwood’s military capability, deepening the insult by calling their kingdom the recent offensive appellation which had been circulating among the other elven realms, _Mirkwood_. 

Legolas watched on in mix of surprised incredulity and perhaps just a bit of mean spirited glee as Thranduil cut the lord off with a cold sneer. Lord Elrond appeared just as incredulous as Legolas, and even Cirdan appeared mortified. 

Lord Celeborn simply looked resigned. Had the lord actually chosen the idiot to accompany him, or had political matters outmaneuvered Lord Celeborn’s preference? Legolas was rather inclined to think he’d been outmaneuvered somehow, or else why bring someone who was so clearly incapable of not undermining Lord Celeborn’s position?

Either way, Legolas would be surprised if the minor lord lasted until the morning before Lord Celeborn sent him sulking back to their realm with his tail between his legs.

Legolas, much to his own disappointment, was unable to stay to watch the unfolding drama and whatever response his father would make to the insult that had been given, by one of Greenwood’s messengers coming to stand silently at the entrance.  
Not an emergency then, as that would have had the messenger coming in to quietly hand whatever he brought to Legolas for him to peruse immediately rather than waiting at the door, but still important enough to require the sending of a messenger and the interruption of a council meeting. 

Thranduil barely spared a glance for the messenger, any curiosity he may have had over the sudden appearance of a messenger rider concealed under his reserved decorum. His father merely waved a hand toward Legolas, excusing him from the meeting to take care of it. 

Legolas stood up from his seat and – with a polite bow to the room – moved quietly to exit the meeting, his father’s coldly arrogant tones following him from the room as Thranduil. 

The meeting had only continued for an hour after the missive had arrived, his father striding into their suite of rooms in a precise, controlled manner that aptly communicated his father’s continued annoyance to find Legolas sitting at Thranduil’s desk consulting his maps as he wrote out orders. Legolas hurriedly began to stand up as his father strode over to stand behind him, to vacate Thranduil’s chair, only to be stopped by a warm, firm hand brushing past his hair to press lightly to the back of his neck. 

Legolas looked up at Thranduil, the difference in their heights further exaggerated by his being seated. Thranduil wasn’t looking at him, but instead focusing intently to read first the missive – set neatly to one side – then at first set of orders Legolas had already written out. Legolas sat quietly, hands gripping the edge of the desk as he scrutinized the carefully blank expression on his father’s face, attempting to ascertain his father’s thoughts as he read. Thranduil flicked his gaze briefly to Legolas’s before refocusing on reading what Legolas had written. 

The hand on the back of his neck tightened briefly, Thranduil’s thumb rubbing lightly against the tense line of his neck as he said, “Relax, Legolas, my anger is not with you, quite the reverse.” The hand moved further up his neck, pressing down lightly. Legolas relaxed the muscles in his neck, allowing his head to drop forward slightly, yielding to the light pressure exerted by Thranduil’s fingertips even though it meant he could no longer see his father’s face. “You did well keeping your composure and calm during the meeting despite that mindless idiot’s needling. You could have perhaps said more when you have something to say instead of writing it down for me to see, but that, Legolas, will come with experience and confidence. You have the intelligence and keenness, the rest you can learn.”

Legolas nodded, lips tilting into a small grin of pleasure at the praise. Thranduil, while not exactly stingy with praise, certainly was not effusive or lavish with it. “Thank you, Ada,” he said softly, exerting his self-control to keep from squirming self-consciously under his father’s hold.

The hand on his neck gave an affectionate squeeze before releasing him, Thranduil leaning forward over him to tap his finger on the parchment Legolas had been working on when Thranduil had entered their suite. “Continue, Legolas. I will read it through once you have finished before it is sent out.” 

Contrary to his words, Thranduil took hold of him once again, this time tilting his chin upwards to make Legolas meet his gaze. Legolas blinked in bemusement as his father scrutinized him closely. “Adar?”

Thranduil didn’t reply to his query, instead he nodded slightly, as if to himself, before releasing Legolas once again and stepping away to sideboard that held the suite’s collection of wine and other alcoholic beverages. Lord Elrond had graciously stocked their suite with a wide selection of various dark wines, evidently well familiar with his father’s preference – and his own – for wine over ale or spirits. 

To Legolas’s surprise, Thranduil bypassed the red Legolas had opened earlier and instead unstoppered a glass bottle of a dark amber liquid of which Legolas was unfamiliar with. Judging by the pungent odor of alcohol that wafted over to where he was sitting was it was opened; Legolas judged that the liquid would readily catch fire should he attempt to light it. Not something one would drink for taste, then. “How badly did the talks go then?”

Thranduil snorted, a rare breech of poise that gave evidence of both the stress he was under and his ease with Legolas. “When do these talks ever go well? At least this time Celeborn attended the meeting rather than his lady. If only he’d left behind the other Noldor as well, then perhaps the meeting would have actually gone smoothly for once.” Thranduil brought his glass of strong smelling liquid over to one of the plush covered chairs in the room, where he lounged back, closing his eyes with a sigh.  
“From what I remember, Lady Galadriel was not the one who diverted the meeting last time. Or at least, wasn’t the one who instigated the diversion,” Legolas hadn’t looked up from where he’d begun writing once more, but that didn’t stop him from feeling the hard stare his father gave him. “Pardon.” 

Legolas heard Thranduil give a small sniff of masked amusement, “Diversion? Now that is an interesting euphemism for what happened. At least my remarks last time were subtle and still fell under the disguise of polite correctness, as well as being not unexpected. She could have ignored it. She simply chose not to. And we still eventually managed to get done what the meeting was set out to do. Even with a few diversions along the way. Celeborn’s person, on the other hand, I doubt even knows the meaning of subtly. He had all the finesse of an orc attempting to start a forest fire. He managed to inadvertently insult both Celeborn and Lord Elrond as well after you left. I don’t even think Lord Cirdan was happy with him by the end.”  
“He did? How?” Legolas looked up from his papers over at Thranduil, eager to hear more.

“Oh, but I don’t wish to be a _diversion_ from your work, my son. Continue working, perhaps we will continue talking about the council meeting over dinner,” Thranduil said, smug tone hidden underneath a deceptively placid veneer and a raised eyebrow.

Legolas scowled fiercely at him, which appeared to just amuse his father further, if the gleam in his eye was anything to go by. Legolas dropped the scowl, instead taking on an imploring look, “I can both listen and work. Was he asked to leave the meeting? Is there going to be another meeting?” 

“Work, Legolas, no more questions. Should I have to go over there, I shall be most displeased,” Contrary to his words, the tone was fondly amused. However, despite the fondness Legolas could read in his tone, it also had the air of ‘I am king, and that is my final word on the subject.’ 

At least he was in a better mood than when he had first come into the room, Legolas thought as he turned back to focus on finishing the missives to send back to the Greenwood.

Nearly half an hour later, Legolas had to stop for a detour to Lord Elrond library to in search of an older set of maps that boasted a more complete depiction of the northern aspect of the Greenwood than the ones Lord Elrond had had supplied to their suite.

Legolas ended up bringing the whole crate of books back to their suite, much to the visible annoyance librarian who had helped him locate what he needed. The librarian hadn’t said anything to stop him though, evidently accepting Legolas’s assurance that he would bring back everything in as good a condition as he found it. 

“Honestly, Adar, I thought he was going to make me sign out the books in blood before he would let me leave the library. Are librarians usually so possessive over their charges? The scholar in charge of our books certainly doesn’t eye me as if I were an angry little fire elemental bent on burning the place down,” Legolas said as he started to sort – carefully – through the books in the box, looking through the books to see which had the map with the section of land he needed. 

“I can’t imagine why he would think that,” Thranduil’s said dryly, “Perhaps he heard you used a page from a book to start a fire once.”

“That was a necessary evil, given the situation. I was lucky to get a fire started at all, with all the rain. The page didn’t even have any writing on it!” 

“Alas, dear son, I do not think that would matter. Best keep that story to yourself.”

Legolas scowled at his father, “I was not the one who brought it up, Ada.” Legolas moved to put one of the books back into the crate – a lengthy, overly verbose journal that seemed to contain early accounts of the elves that would later find themselves in and around the area now called the Greenwood. Although, between the wear on the pages and the horrible mixture of different long unused dialects and equally horrible handwriting, it could have been a book of recipes for stew for all Legolas could make of. “Instead, I think that inst-!” Legolas broke off with a string of expletives that had Thranduil rolling onto his feet in concern. Legolas waved him off. “I’m alright, I’m alright, the book just bit me. Must not have like all the talk about fire.”  
Legolas showed his bleeding palm to his father – the sharp edge of the metal hinge had sliced into his hand which was now bleeding freely and dripping everywhere – as evidence, and he glanced around for something to wrap around it to stop the bleeding.

“I’ll get a piece of cloth to tie it with, stay there.”

“I’m dripping everywhere. I’m dripping on the books, I'm dripping on the some of the pages that fell out. Pretty sure you should just kill me now; I think you will offer me a kinder, quicker death than the librarian will.”

“I would help you, as you are my dearest son for whom I would do anything for, but then he would only have me to blame for the vandalism. I am afraid you are on your own. Where is that cloth, one would think that if Lord Elrond could supply us with enough wine to keep us inebriated for 3 weeks, he could supply us with enough cloth a wrap a hand up.”

“Nevermind, I will just rip off a part of my sleeve if you can help me tie it, just let me-” Legolas froze in the act of clearing a space on the desk, his face turning a pale chalk white as the room started spinning around him. He let out a panicked sounding cry as white hot pain started flowing up his hand where it was touching the corner of a piece of paper stenciled with different runes and old elvish lettering. While the parchment had seemed harmless sitting there on the desk, it made his skin crawl like he’d been dipped into a nest of spiders as he looked at it now. The blood that he’d accidently dripped onto the loose page was being absorbed, fading into the page as if it had never been there only to reappear even as Legolas watched in the form of some sort of blood red runic alphabet.

It only a couple loud heart beats for this to happen, enough time for Thranduil to cross the room and grab hold of him, eyes panicked and confused as he tried to ascertain what was wrong, his father’s mouth moving in words Legolas couldn’t hear past the roaring in his ears and the _screaming_ in the room. Pain gripped at his heart, clenching and twisting up to his head and along his spine like pinpricks of fire then merging to flare through his whole body. He reached out to his father, turning into the fierce hold Thranduil had on him to curl his still bloody hand into the fabric of his father’s undershirt. Thranduil grabbed his wrist, holding it still so he could try tear away the parchment still stuck to his other hand despite Legolas’s frantic efforts to dislodge it. 

The parchment flashed brightly when Thranduil touched, and then something seemed to appear through the pain, to wrap around his fëa and lodge itself there. The touch should have been intrusive, should have felt like a violation to feel something touch the very core of his being, but instead it felt like salvation as its strength was able to chase away and shield him from the pain. He leaned into it, not know what was happening but somehow recognizing the foreign presence as his father’s own fëa.  
Legolas felt a fresh flush of horror as he suddenly realized that whatever the parchment was doing, it wasn’t attacking his hröa, his physical body, but instead was digging its claws into his fëa, _tearing_ into it. He tried to pull back from the claws, clumsily attempting to use his newfound awareness of his fëa only to have it flex with him. Legolas felt the strength of his father’s fëa wrap tightly around his own, holding him as Thranduil brought the deep well of his own fëa, to bear on those claws. His fëa trembled, unable to move freely for the first time, and the realizing on an instinctive level, a tangible level, in a way he never had before the difference between his own mere hundreds of years to the vast stores of his father’s _millenniums_. 

Legolas felt, horror creeping along with the realization, that even the strength of his father’s fëa was not enough to dislodge the claws, nor to even keep his own self safe from them. The claws tangled themselves in Thranduil’s fëa, and Legolas had the disconcerting experience of feeling his father’s own shock and horror and _fear_ as if they were his own while still being decidedly foreign to himself. 

Then the world blurred around him, finally falling into darkness as awareness left him and he knew no more.


	2. 2.1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I accidentally uploaded the wrong version of the chapter first, so here is the correct one, version 2.1.

Legolas _hurt_.

Even before he came to awareness once more, his head felt as if he’d fallen from a tree and hit every branch on the way down. The low murmuring around him stopped as he shifted about, and he felt a spike of annoyance that they couldn’t have stopped talking before it had disturbed him from his sleep.

Hands – His father’s his bind blearily identified – tried to shift him into a more upright position, despite his attempts to stay as he was. 

More murmuring around him, although he wasn’t quite awake enough to make sense of what the soft tones were saying – not through the pain in his head. He felt another spike of annoyance at the interlopers. All he wanted to do was sleep. It was less painful then waking, and he was still so tired.

His half-asleep mind snagged on another detail. Why were there people in his bedroom?

His sense of unease growing, Legolas tried to turn his head, and finally succeeded in doing so on his third attempt. The murmuring stopped when he started to move about on his own. Forcing his eyes to clear was easier, and he blinked until his surroundings came into focus. 

Imladris. Not his bedroom at home at all, but instead the one he had been using since arriving there. He permitted the hands that had been attempting to get him to sit up to do so, and the room seemed to spin alarmingly. He breathed through it, allowing his father situate him so Legolas tucked against him with his father taking most of his weight. 

His father was not one for casual touches, much less _cuddling_. Thranduil willingly doing so was not simply unusual, it was unheard of, at least since he'd reached the age of majority. His uneasiness spiked upwards.

“Awake yet, my son?” 

Something had happened. Something bad, based upon the tone of his father’s voice. He’d had sounded the same after Legolas had spent a week near death in a feverish delirium after he’d fallen into a nest of newly hatched spiders. 

It had taken a while for him to remember what had happened then, as well. The healers had said the temporary blank spot in his memory was his mind protecting itself from the traumatizing experience until he was fit enough to deal with it.

A glass of some sort of fruit juice appeared in front of him, pressing against his mouth with the silent demand that he drink it before he attempted to speak. He did so willingly; glad to at least be able sooth the dry, raw feeling in his throat even if he couldn’t do anything to address the pounding in his head.

The glass was taken away before he could drink more than a few mouthfuls, much to his displeasure. He turned his head, ready to communicate his irritation of the withdrawal, and flinched in surprised mortification at the identity of the person sitting there at the bedside.

A healer, as he had expected, but not just any healer. _Lord Elrond_. 

“ _Ada!_ ” There was nothing that could excuse the fact that _Lord Elrond_ was in his bedroom, while he was in bed, curled up against his father like some elfling who had had a bad dream during the night. In his _underclothing_ , no less. 

The whole situation was utterly _mortifying_. Why had his ada had allowed it?

He could at least stop cowering against his father like some knee high elfling in need of comfort. His father hadn’t kept a hold on him after he’d settled Legolas against him, so it was easy enough to slide away.

The moment he did so, breaking all physical contact with his father in the process, it felt as if he’d been dipped in acid, the throbbing in head morphing into feeling as if an ice pick where being driven into his skull. 

He heard a shocked, pained cry from next to him, his father, and then, just as suddenly, came blessed relief when he was pushed back against his father, Thranduil already reaching out to grab hold of him as Lord Elrond pushed them together once more. Legolas could only lay there, body limp in his father’s firm hold as the pain slowly faded back to the dull ache that had been there.

Lord Elrond pressed against his temples and forehead in the customary way healers checked for stress to the fëa, which gave Legolas a clue as to what was wrong with him. Not damage to his hröa then, although his hand did a row of tiny, neat little stiches which he assumed were also Lord Elrond’s work.

Lord Elrond sighed with relief, relieved by whatever he sensed from the touch, and lifted his hand away to do the same for Thranduil, who simply gave Lord Elrond a cold look and turned his head away. Lord Elrond murmured something under his breath that Legolas couldn’t quite catch, although it sounded suspiciously like it was something about the bull headedness of Oropher’s line, but drew back in his chair, evidently deciding that choosing his battles with Thranduil was the better part of wisdom in this case. 

Lord Elrond studied the two of them, a small frown on his mouth before he nodded to himself, evidently deciding upon something. “I see I am keeping Legolas from being able to relax, I shall leave now and return later to check on you both before the sun sets,” Lord Elrond said before stood up, “Erestor and I will continue trying to research where that book came from, as well as the possible… ramifications… of your situation. We will let you know if we find anything significant beyond what we already know.” Lord Elrond turned and started toward the door leading to the rest of the suite. At the door, he paused and turned back around. “If anything further arises, ring a servant for me and I shall come immediately. Have him finish the drink on the table and see how he reacts to it before giving him anything substantial to eat.”

Legolas frowned at being spoken about as if he were not there, but shrugged it off. There were more important things to worry about. Such as the blank spot in his memory. The pain in his head. 

Or the fact that breaking physical contact with his father rather felt like what he imagined being skinned alive and rolled through salt would be like. 

“What happened? The last thing I remember was working out who I could spare and who could be shifted about in order to investigate and clear out any goblins inhabiting the old tunnels the recent rains had uncovered. You were still at that horrible meeting.”

His father reached over him to pick the glass of fruit juice off the tray beside the bed, and handed it to Legolas. “Drink, then I will try to explain best as possible.” There was some shifting about as Legolas tried to sit up enough to drink while still maintaining contact, before Legolas settled with sitting shoulder to shoulder, both their backs against the headboard. It made the pain in his head more intense, but it was still bearable. Instinct was telling him that _more_ physical contact would decrease the pain, that the little contact they had through the sleeves of their undershirts was simply not enough.

He didn’t quite know how to ask for more though.While his father was never exactly cold to him, hugging and other sorts of physical contact typical between family had never been a part of their relationship. More due to Thranduil’s boundaries than any reluctance on Legolas’s part, but he did not mind. His father had other, perhaps more subtle ways of demonstrating his affection and love for Legolas, and it made the times Thranduil did touch him that much more meaningful. 

Legolas blinked in surprise when the glass of fruit juice, now empty, was taken from him and placed back on the tray. Lost in thought, he’d not even been aware of finishing it. He turned his head to look expectantly at his father, who still looked concerned.

Legolas nudged him with his shoulder, “Well?” silently urging Thranduil to start his explanation.

THranduil nodded, and started with a grave look upon his face, “The meeting you mentioned was three days ago.”

His spine straightened in shock. Three _days_? His head twinged painfully at the sudden movement. He opened his mouth to clarify, but closed it before saying anything as his father continued.

“The first two days you were unconscious; although on this last one you fell into a more natural sleep.”  
“But why? What happened?”

“We don’t exactly know what – well, no, I suppose that is not strictly correct. We do not know _how_ it happened, nor what the impact of it will be.”

Sometimes his father was dreadfully pedantic. Normally, Legolas found it rather endearing, but right at that moment Legolas would have rather preferred conciseness. “What. _Happened_?”

“There was a book, disguised as something as the innocuous if somewhat incoherent ramblings of a traveler. In reality, it was really a magical artifact of somewhat… dubious lineage and equally, if not more so, dubious purpose. It was designed to force a heavily modified version of what could only have been at one point a fëa bond.”

“A fëa bond? Like a marriage bond?” Legolas questioned, confused. How could someone –or something– force a marriage bond? Not to mention… “And you’re already married. I mean, my very existence is evidence of this,” Legolas paused, feeling a little sick as something else popped into his head. “Neither of us is pregnant, are we?” He asked, horrified.

Thranduil gave him a _look_ , and said, “Surely I don’t need to talk to you about how elflings are made.” Had it been anyone else or even had his father been a little less dignified, Legolas was sure he would have received an eye roll as well.  
“You said marriage bond! How else am I supposed to take it?”

“Rationally, I would hope. And I said fëa bond, not a _marriage_ bond. You were the one who jumped from a fëa to a marriage bond. Neither of us is pregnant. Neither of us is even _capable_ of becoming pregnant. Are you sure you don’t need me to give you that talk, you seem a little fuzzy on the details.”

Legolas growled, low in his throat, and lunged at his father, knocking Thranduil sideways on the bed and then scrambling on top of him to pin him down onto the bed, his hands gripping his father’s shoulders firmly despite Thranduil’s lack of resistence, “ _ **I’m not being irrational!** _ ” 

Thranduil gave him an unimpressed look, meeting his eyes for a second then flicking them downward to where Legolas had him pinned, and then back up again. Thranduil raised one elegant, mocking eye brow at Legolas. 

Legolas’s anger spiked further, accompanied by a stab of pain. Emotional this time, rather than physical. He rolled off to the side, wiggling himself around and then further down the bed so his head was by the foot of the bed. He kept one foot carefully pressed against his father’s rib cage. He may not be able to storm out of his father’s presence without colossal amounts of pain, but a small, petty part of Legolas was consoled with the fact Legolas was using his _feet_ to touch him. “I’m having an emotional reaction, _Adar_ , and that is a perfectly _rational_ response to being told that we have a fëa bond, especially when the only reference I have for one is a marriage bond. I don’t know what that thing that caused this is capable of! Maybe it was capable of giving one – or both – of us the capability of carrying a child. And excuse me if the idea of having a child with a close family member doesn’t makes me really _**fucking** _ concerned. It’s a rational response. Just because you’re too emotionally cold to empathize doesn’t give you the right to belittle me.”

The second he finished his tirade, he knew he'd gone too far, and his anger with his father fades away as suddenly as it came. His father wasn't emotionally cold, just reserved, and he has proof in the split second of _painhurtregretsorrow_ that echoed strongly through what must be the bond his father had spoken about for a split second before it is abruptly cut off. He started back stepping immediately, “Ada, I didn’t mean that, I was just-!” He broke off in surprise when his father dropped heavily down on top of him, not even propping himself up, his larger body weighing Legolas down as Thranduil settled himself down on top of Legolas.

Legolas was too shocked to even think of struggling, even had he wished too, the combined shock of his father – who thinks hugging is too invasive – doing this, and the way the pain that had been with him since before he awoke faded somewhat as Thranduil rubbed his cheek against Legolas’s. He was too surprised to stop the way his body shivers pleasantly in response, or the way his own cheek presses responsively back. 

Thranduil made a soft shushing sound when Legolas opened his mouth to say something more. Legolas didn’t know exactly what he would have said, but it seemed like he should at least make the attempt. Legolas tentatively reached his hands up to his father’s sides, pressing more confidently when he receives an approving hum instead of a rebuke.

This touching was... strange, but not unpleasant. He can’t see his father’s face though, with the way their cheeks are pressed together, nor can he can he count on the bond to tell him if something is wrong, as his father seems perfectly capable of shielding his emotions from Legolas when he wants to. 

Which was blatantly unfair, as Legolas couldn't shield his thoughts from Thranduil.  
Legolas moved his hands so the where farther up Thranduil’s sides. He may like how cuddly Thranduil is being at this moment, but he knows Thranduil hates being touched. 

Thranduil probably felt obligated to do this. Legolas was his son, and despite what Legolas said while angry, Thranduil loved him. Would die for him, wade into a swarming mess of nasty, evil baby spiders for him, even endure torture for him.  
It was much more characteristic, not to mention more believable, for Thranduil to do something he found personally unpleasant if he thought it was something that Legolas needed. 

And that thought left a rather sour taste in his mouth. Enjoying something that caused his father found unpleasant didn’t seem right. Not when Legolas didn’t really need it. He wasn’t some elfling for whom physical contact was necessary for healthy physical and mental development.

He was over five hundred years old, and even if this now rare opportunity of physical closeness to his father felt like home, if he sometimes missed the certainty he’d had as an elfling that if he reached out, his father would reach back, he was way past the age of actually needing this amount of physical contact, regardless of their current situation. He squirmed anxiously, stilling when Thranduil uttered a sharp sound of disapproval. He immediately softened the rebuke when Legolas stilled obediently by nosing along Legolas’s jawline like an overly large cat.

His father would most likely be in a testy mood if he was uncomfortable, but forced himself to do so because he felt that this was what Legolas needed. If Legolas could just see his father’s face, make sure one way or the other… Perhaps Legolas could suggest an alternative. A hand on his neck, or one running through his hair would feel nice. Not as good as this full body cuddle, but still nice, and it was one of the touches that Legolas considered to be within his father’s comfort zone. 

If he could just… He placed his hands on his father’s shoulders, trying to push Thranduil back just far enough so Legolas could see his face clearly, when Thranduil gave an annoyed sounding growl and Legolas felt teeth graze his jaw just before Thranduil bit him, hard, just below his ear.

Actually _**bit** _ him. 

Legolas dropped his hands immediately with a surprised sound, and, not quite sure of what to do with them, clumsily flailed them around on the bed.

Thranduil’s teeth grazed his skin once more, warningly. Legolas stilled, tense, uneasy. 

Someone needed to tell his father that warnings worked a lot better when both parties knew what was wanted. Legolas tensed further, and, nervous energy leaving him unable to keep that stillness, started to fidget and bit his lower lip, worrying it with his teeth. 

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” Legolas said, the faintest tinge of a whine to his words.

Thranduil stilled on top of him in response, and then relaxed with a soft huff of a chuckle in Legolas’s ear. “All you need to do is relax. Stop worrying, if you can, I can feel it buzzing around in your head like a hornet’s nest. Just relax.” 

“You can tell what I’m worrying about?”

“No, no, nothing as coherent as that, simply… emotions. When they spike, when they calm. Like your worry spiked when you thought I could read you mind, but calmed again when I told you I couldn’t. I knew you worried about things, but actually feeling it is quite different. I apologize, I reacted inappropriately.” Thranduil nosed apologetically at bite mark. “As to earlier…You are right; it was ill done of me to tease you about such a serious matter. Especially when I myself had something of that same concern earlier, before you woke up. Let me reassure you, as I should have done earlier, I had Lord Elrond run a check on both of our fëa once the bond settled. We are still male elves, fully incapable siring children with each other even had we the facilities with which to carry one to term. There is no chance of this bond accidentally sparking an elfling.” 

Legolas blinked in disbelief. “You… you had the same concern. Which you ridiculed as ill rational when I later had that same concern.”

“I was not ridiculing you, please believe me, it was not meant in that manner. I was simply teasing you, as I frequently do when I feel… out of sorts. It was ill done of me to do so in this instance, when I should have done all I could to reassure you,” Thranduil said, and Legolas could feel the earnestness with which he spoke.

Legolas dropped his head back with a sigh. Honestly, his father sometimes… Thranduil felt suddenly pensive, evidently whatever wall Thranduil had put up around his emotions had relaxed enough to allow Legolas to feel something of what he was feeling. Which Legolas figured was only fair, although he was rather surprised that his father would do so, even when feeling contrite. Perhaps it was simply a slip in concentration, rather than a conscious decision.

“Do you wish me get off of you? I cannot leave, for obviously reasons, but I would understand if you were annoyed with me at present, and wish for what space is possible.”

“No, Ada. I mean, yes, I am annoyed with you, but I already knew you were an ass.” Legolas felt Thranduil small jerk of surprise, then the soft noise of a surprised chuckle.

“Oh?”

“Completely and utterly. So whereas before I may have felt guilty about asking you to do something which you clearly find discomforting, I do so no longer. True, you are a bit heavy, though I suppose you cannot help that, any more than you can help being an ass.” 

Thranduil did not laugh though, as Legolas had expected him to and had been aiming for. Instead, he became pensive again, and drew back so they were face to face. “What do you mean, Legolas, ‘something that I clearly find discomforting’?”

“Ada? I… Well, you don’t like touching people. If anything, you avoid it. Do you say that it is untrue, as I have seen it. There is nothing wrong with that.” 

“Ah... No, I will not deny it, with other people that is true. Even with you, I will admit to not being the most tactile person. But,” Thranduil grabbed Legolas’s chin as he ducked his head down till they were nose to nose to emphasize what he was saying, “It is not because I find it ‘discomforting’, or whatever it was you called it. It is not a chore, or whatever else you found it in your head to worry over. I am simply not an overly tactile person. That isn’t to say that I do not like or find comfort in touch – when it is with you, at least. After the last three day of not knowing at first whether you would survive a bonding you fëa was not old enough to handle without endangering you, then wondering having to wait to see whether you would ever wake up again once we were sure of your survival… Believe me, my son, when I say that being able to hold you close, feel the way your hröa still breathes, is still warm, and feel the way your fëa is still vibrant and healthy despite its bruising… It is a comfort, more than you could ever know.”

Thranduil shifted closer to him, pressing him down into the soft quilt of the bed, and Legolas finally relaxed in his embrace, rubbing his cheek against his father’s, more than a little overwhelmed at the outpouring of emotions from his usually taciturn and aloof father. He didn’t get to comment on it though, as Thranduil suddenly sat up, reaching for the hem of his undershirt and yanking it unceremoniously over his head. 

Legolas blinked, shocked at the sudden action. They were not ashamed of their bodies, no elf truly was, but the random stripping of clothing was not normal. Even for elves. “Ada?”

“Shirt off, Legolas.” Thranduil started tugging at Legolas’s undershirt. “You have had a trying experience, and I feel that you could use some more sleep." 

Legolas scowled, “I’ve been asleep for three days. Surely that is enough sleep.”

“No, Legolas, do not try to downplay what happened. You were not asleep for three days. You were conserving energy in order to have enough to survive the bonding process, and even after the most dangerous parts passed you still needed more sleep to regain the lost energy. And, as you woke up before you were truly ready too, you need more sleep. I can feel your exhaustion, Legolas, there is not point in denying it.”

“But I still have questions, you haven’t explained everything. I don’t need to go to sleep.” Legolas kept his arms stubbornly down, keeping his shirt from being pulled off him. “And even if I did, why does my shirt need to come off?”

“Because I can also feel the pain you are trying to hold back, and more skin to skin will appease the bond while it settles.”

“How about the shirt comes off, and I stay awake. I am truly not tired, whatever it may be that you think you are from me. Although, maybe I just feel to anxious to feel properly tired. I would feel a great deal less anxious if you explained further about what happened. Then maybe I wouldn’t feel too anxious to sleep.”

Thranduil chuckled, “It’s cute that you think this is anything but a dictatorship when it comes your health. Other times I may allow you to negotiate things into your own way, but in this you will find me unmoving. You may be anxious, but I feel the level is not detrimental to your ability to find sleep. And, my dear son, as I am both quite a bit older and stronger than you, it would be smarter for you to simply give in.”

“I don't care what you are feeling from me, you can’t force me to go to sleep.”

“No, I couldn’t, that is true, but I could pin you to the bed and hold you still until you finally did fall asleep. I say it would take… ten minutes before you fell asleep.” 

“Won’t such rough handling endanger my recovery? Would it not be better to appease me in hopes that I will feel charitable?”

“As cute as it is, this discussion is over. I suggest you remove you shirt before I do it for you.”

Legolas felt a thrill of something shiver through him, insanity perhaps, as the word that came out of his mouth was short, to the point, and more than a little bratty sounding. “No.”

Thranduil nodded, still looking for the world as if they were discussing the weather. Thranduil placed his hands firmly on Legolas’s waist as he said, “Legolas, it is your fëa that needs careful handling. I would not dream of stressing it in the least.” He knelt up, easily flipping his son over on his stomach as he does so. “Your hröa, on the other hand, is quite hale and hearty.” Thranduil slid an arm underneath Legolas, his arm like an unrelenting iron band around his waist, and Legolas squeaked as he was lifted up enough for Thranduil to tug his shirt up over his head, “And it is quite capable of taking a little rough handling.” He continued to manhandle Legolas’s arms out of his sleeves, easily keeping him pinned to the bed despite Legolas's attempts to wiggle out from underneath.

A better opportunity presented itself when Thranduil leaned over to the right to drop both their shirts onto the tray while keeping Legolas firmly bracketed between his knees, and Legolas took advantage of Thranduil being off balance - his father _really_ should have know better - and twisted his torso, pushing against his father's right shoulder to knock him completely off balance, and followed it up by scrambling up on top of Thranduil back, neatly mirroring the position he'd been in before, Thranduil face down on the bed with Legolas on top of him, hands pressing his father's wrists into the mattress with a triumphant laugh. His father's neck was temptingly close to his mouth, and, remembering the bite _he'd_ received earlier, Legolas bit down on his father's neck firmly, worrying it with his teeth in order to raise the blood to the surface.

Legolas didn't quite know what to do with his father once he'd done that though, aside from sit back a little and look at the blossoming red mark he'd left behind in a sort of bewilderingly smug satisfaction, and the slight hesitation was more than enough for Thranduil surge upward in an overly complicated twist and roll. Legolas's triumphant laugh turned into a squeak of surprise as he found himself once more trapped face to face underneath Thranduil, more firmly restrained then before with his hands pinned above his head and every square inch of him being pressed down by Thranduil's heavier frame. 

“There now, much better, stop your squirming and settle down. Are you going to go quietly to sleep, or do I need to convince you?” Thranduil shifted slightly, ignoring the scowl Legolas gave him in response, and reached with his free hand to touch the spot on his neck Legolas had bitten, wincing slightly as he explored the raw mark Legolas had left behind. "Ferocious, defiant little prince, aren't you? I think I'll quite enjoy convincing you." Thranduil leaned forward to redistribute his weight, dropping his hand down from the mark on his neck and placing it beside Legolas's head.

Legolas took the opportunity to try to bite him again, objecting to being called _little_ , his teeth scraping Thranduil's arm before his father had managed to yank his arm away. Legolas gave his father a smug look, giving his father a grin which showed most of his teeth. "Are you sure you wouldn't prefer to just answer my questions?" Legolas gave his father another tooth filled grin, and snapped his teeth together once.

His father fisted a hand in Legolas's hair, tugging firmly until Legolas's neck reluctantly relaxed and tilted his head back slightly until Legolas was forced to look him in the eye and said, "Oh, I'm quite sure I'd rather not. Ferocious, defiant little princes just bring out the part of me that wants to tame them to my hand until they're the good, sweet little princes I know they can be." His father's grip on his hair tightened, keeping his head in place and Legolas's teeth safely away his face, and Legolas once again felt his father's blunt teeth nipping lightly in disapproval at his jaw when Legolas squirmed against his hold.

"No _little_ princes here," Legolas bucked adruptly against hand hold his arms above his head, not actually expecting to get free but instead indulging the odd desire he had to feel the strong flex of Thranduil's hold against him. 

Thranduil easily rode it out and pinned him more firmly to the bed, the fist in his hair twisting as Thranduil guided his head further back, exposing more of Legolas's throat to his teeth. He felt the drag of his father's teeth against the soft, vulnerably sensitive skin underneath his jaw seconds before he felt the teeth nip sharply at the exposed skin, startling a surprised whimper from his throat. 

"Hush," Thranduil said softly, and Legolas felt teeth rasp against the sensitive skin under his jaw again and again, occasionally interspersed with sharp little nips that drew whimpers from his throat at such rough treatment toward the oversensitive and vulnerable skin. Thranduil didn't pull away until the muscles in Legolas's body had relaxed, and he lay docilely underneath his father, head tossed back and his breath was coming in breathy little whines. His father made a pleased sounding noise at the change, but did not release Legolas. "Your skin is so sensitive there, isn't it? Much too sensitive for teeth."

Legolas felt teeth drag softly against his skin once again, and whimpered breathlessly in agreement.

"Much better, there's the well behaved prince I know... tell me, Legolas, what do good, well behaved princes do when their kings tell them to do something? Do they fight their king? Defy him? _Bite_ him?"

He hesitated answering for a second, but Legolas only had to feel the hint of teeth before he was hurrying to answer, "No..."

"And what should good, well-behaved princes do when their kings tell them to get some sleep? Should they listen?"

Legolas didn't need prompting this time, "Yes..."

"Luckily, I happen to like ferocious, defiant little princes as well as the sweetly well-behaved ones. However, right now I need the well-behaved one, because you feel exhausted." His father frowned down at him, as he released Legolas's wrists, silently daring Legolas to resist going to sleep once more. 

The urge that had drawn him into resisting was quieted now, and instead just nodded tiredly up at his father. At that signal, Thranduil lifted himself off of Legolas, and dropped down on his side next to Legolas on the bed, although he didn't draw Legolas too him as Legolas had been expecting.

Legolas huffed and turned toward his father, moving closer so he could press his forehead into his father’s neck. Legolas counted how many heart beats it took for the pain to fade away. It had faded earlier too, when Thranduil had used his body to press Legolas into the bed, and when Legolas had been the one pressing him down, even if it had only been for a couple of moments. 

The pain wasn’t completely gone, he could feel the way his fëa was bruised and tender but it was not as painful as he had expected it to be, nor as much as it should have been, based on what he could feel. And, now that the other pain was gone and the lack of other distractions, he could clearly feel the way his father’s fëa was wrapped carefully around his, cradling it gently alongside his own. Legolas relaxed his body, tucking himself closer and rubbing his cheek against the mark he'd made on his father's neck. 

How much pain was his father shielding from him? Legolas didn’t think he would get an answer if he asked, but he made a mental note to ask Lord Elrond about it later.

He mentally tried to flex his fëa, unsure as to how it would respond. It did so sluggishly, and Legolas could suddenly sense the part of him that was not right. Something was clawing at him, _using_ him. His fëa struggled against it, trying to escape it, but that thing simply moved with him. 

_It wasn't supposed to be there._

Panic thrummed through him, Legolas reached out to the pull his father's fëa more tightly around him, and tried use his father's bright, shiny presence to blanket that _thing_ from his own senses.

When he finally was able to draw his attention back to the physical world, he was surprised to find himself blinking into his father's own concerned gaze. Thranduil had made their physical bodies mirror their fëa, curled closely together with their foreheads pressed together as he had attempted to calm Legolas down. 

“Ada?”

“Legolas.” 

“Just this last question, then I’ll go to sleep.”

Thranduil sighed, and Legolas felt him silently deliberating with him self before he nodded his head.

“What did you mean when you said I nearly was not old enough to survive the bonding? Marriage bonds are draining, not recommended for elves under one hundred, but it wouldn’t endanger them. It would just fail to form. Are fëa bonds so different? Are they like that-that _thing_ attached to me? ”

"Fëa bonds are rare, formed with repeated contact between fëa who are compatible. I have only met two such couples. They are not any more dangerous than a marriage bond, although their purpose is very different. It doesn’t create children. It is gradual, slow, and both couples treasured the link between them. On the other hand, the thing creating a link between you and I... From what we have gathered, whoever created this wanted to circumvent the bonding process. Either because they did not wish to wait out the time it takes to form the bond, they were unable to form a bond together… Or because the one they desired was unwilling to form a bond with them.”

“Force a bond…” Legolas shivered, and shied away from remember what part of his fea where that thing was touching felt like, “Wouldn’t that have the same result as trying to force a marriage bond? The fëa fleeing and the hröa dying?”

“Whoever designed it put safe guards in place to prevent that, which relates to how it is dangerous... The worry that your fëa would not survive the bonding process, even with the safe guards put in place, is because it still depends on the fëa’s ability to survive the first part of the process where it latches on, and from there on it feeds on your own energy. Older elves often are able to survive more before their fëa flees the hröa, as you know. This would give an older elf more of a chance to survive both the initial latching on as well as the subsequent loss of energy without the hröa dying. An older elf, with a strong enough fëa and hröa would not be abke to escape, even should they have wished to send their fëa, they would not have been able to.”


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey readers! I made a mistake in which chapter 2 I uploaded at first. I corrected the next day, but if the version you read was not chapter 2.1, some aspects of this chapter will leave you very confused.

Despite the ease with which Legolas fell into a deep sleep once he’d allowed himself to relax, his dreams offered no respite. At first they comprised only of scattered flashes of discomfort and anxiety that eventually coalesced into a horrible dream wherein it was not Thranduil on the other side of the bond. Instead, it was a terrifying, skeletal figure with sharp, blood – his blood – soaked claws and a brittle laugh that echoed after him as he tried to escape.

He didn’t realize he’d mentally reached out, unconsciously searching for Thranduil in his sleep, until the concerned, familiar presence drew him up out of the dream into the lighter sleep of reverie, and floated along with him until the last vestiges of the nightmare faded. Then Thranduil faded into the background as well, still lingering around him as a vigilant sentinel against the threat of further bad dreams, but allowed Legolas to slip further down, back into the healing depths of true sleep.

Several hours later, he awoke once more, feeling more refreshed and just a little antsy. This time, thankfully, he awoke to a silent room with his father and himself as the soul occupants. He blinked his eyes a couple of times to bring the room into focus, slightly bemused to find them both in different positions than when he had fallen asleep. Thranduil was propped up by several pillows, still bare chested, one hand bracing an open book against his raised knee, while the other hand lightly trailed a wandering path along Legolas’s lower back. Legolas, on the other hand, had migrated downward to rest half on top of Thranduil with his head pillowed on his ada’s chest so that the steady beat of his heart thrummed pleasantly in his ear.

He laid there for a while, listening to the _thump-thump-thump_ in his ear as he quietly breathed in the different elements of his father’s familiar scent. He couldn’t remember the last time his father and he had spent time just quietly sitting –or laying– together, and it was nice to be able to relax with him while not having one hundred percent of that razor sharp focus bent toward studying and analyzing him.

Hi father, even now, wasn’t completely relaxed. It wasn’t easy to sense, but if Legolas relaxed and silenced his mind, he could feel an undercurrent of concern through the bond, muted and dilute, as if his father had stifled it with ironclad self-control. The concern occasionally spiked, became more solid and abrasive, whenever Legolas guessed that his father’s vaunted self-control slipped for a few seconds before the wall of self control slammed back down. Legolas felt much calmer than he had earlier, the several hours he’d had of being cradled gently against his father’s fëa with a steady stream of _loveprotectioncalm_ being cocooned around him. 

Legolas didn’t know how Thranduil was able to do it. _Sending_ emotions was easy enough, he guessed, but how Thranduil was able to filter out the undesirable emotions from those he wished to send was a completely different matter. 

If Legolas attempted to do the same, he’d undoubtedly send worry and fear along with the positive emotions, which would defeat the purpose of trying to put his father more at ease.

He wanted to alleviate some of his father’s worry, not add to them.

Or…perhaps if he couldn’t _decrease_ them… his father might, at the least, be _distracted _from them, at least for a little while.__

__Not as good as being able to wrap his father up in a cocoon of positive emotion of his own, but it would still most likely bring his father a measure of peace in the familiarity of it._ _

__Legolas had, after all, made an art of mildly annoying his father for at least the last four hundred and fifty years._ _

__Even if his father didn’t exactly appreciate the effort, it would at least offer distraction and the opportunity to fall into rolls that were familiar to both of them._ _

__Plus, it would serve the double purpose of focusing his father’s attention back on himself. There was only so long Legolas could spend contemplating the vagaries of his father’s scent before he found his attention wandering._ _

__Legolas prodded his father in the side gently, a first gentle attempt to draw Thranduil attention away from reading, but only received a light hum and an absent minded pat in reply. Legolas frowned slightly as he watched his father turned the page in his book, and he let out a forlorn little sigh, which went ignored aside from his father’s hand moving from his back to his comb gently through his hair._ _

__Legolas continued, undaunted. He was not one to give up at the first placating pat to the head, and after so many centuries of effort, he had many tricks and stratagems gained through long hours of turmoil._ _

__Mostly his father’s._ _

__Legolas prodded him again, less gently, aiming for the sensitive spot on his side where hip met waist. This time, his prodding met with the rather pleasing response of a startled jerk to the side and a bitten off expletive._ _

__Legolas quickly stifled the laugh that threatened to bubble up._ _

__He lifted his head to meet Thranduil’s annoyed glare, his ada's attention solely on himself once again, and, hopefully, suitably distracted. Now to _keep_ him distracted._ _

__He sent an innocent, cheeky grin in return, “Hello, Ada, what are you reading?” Without waiting for a reply, Legolas plucked the book from his father’s loosened grasp. “Flowering Trees of Greater Eriador…. How dreadful – I mean, it sounds completely riveting, truly.” Legolas held it carefully out of his father’s halfhearted attempt to retrieve the book as he read the title. “Much to riveting for an elf in your condition.” Legolas tossed it over the edge of the bed. “Really, Adar, you should know better. As your ever diligent and loyal prince, I fear it falls to me to me to ensure that- _Ada!_ ” Legolas practically squawked in surprised as he was suddenly lifted up by his waste and planted firmly astride his father’s lap. _ _

__This was _not_ one of his father’s usual responses. Granted, laying shirtless together in bed was also not typical behavior, even for them, but surely it wasn’t that hard to adapt their familiar routines to new situations, was it? Certainly not enough to force his father to develop new responses for him._ _

__Even if Thranduil loved being unpredictable._ _

__His father looked up at him, one eye brow raised smugly as Legolas squirmed in bewilderment against the hold on his waist._ _

__This was certainly a new development, and Legolas felt excused to take a break from his plan to spend a few seconds in confusion over it._ _

__Before, he’d only been on top of his father for a few scant seconds before Thranduil had had him pinned again, but even still…It was quite a bit different to be placed on top and _held_ there, rather than be the one be the holding. Legolas wasn’t quite sure _how_ he felt about the difference._ _

__It didn’t feel _bad_ , not at all.. Just different. Dangerous, yet thrilling, like when they’d been training to jump safely off of various heights into water. _ _

__He’d felt marginally in control for those few seconds he’d been on top before his father had flipped them. Things had definitely spiraled decidedly out of his control afterwards, to be sure, but for those few seconds, _Thranduil_ had been the one held down with a mark being bitten into his neck._ _

__Now, despite being on top, he had the distinct suspicion that if he were able to put another mark on Thranduil at this moment, it would only be because Thranduil allowed it._ _

__Which was rather too bad, as the various vivid and still darkening colors of his mark looked rather fetching against the pale skin on his father’s neck. Like he’d somehow created art to show off to the world._ _

__He hadn’t forgotten his goal of distracting his father, though, and despite his momentary confusion, he felt he’d done a passable job so far. He certainly had his ada suitably distracted with his full attention once again directed toward Legolas._ _

__Well, at least he had experience with to work with keeping his father distracted, even if the exact situation he found himself in was new. Keep to the mission, no matter what obstacle might be tossed at him. Or that he may be tossed on top of, if he were to be strictly correct._ _

__Trying to sound suitably contrite, he said, “I’m sorry, Adar, were you shopping around for what to put in your next spring crown?”_ _

__“Well, Legolas, you have my complete attention now, what did you so desperately need that you couldn’t wait for me to finish the chapter?” Thranduil ignored his continued queries into his reading choices._ _

__As Thranduil had ignored him first, Legolas felt obliged to do the same, and continued on as if he hadn’t heard his father, “I really feel as though I should advise you, as I am your diligent and ever forward thinking prince, that continuing to use flowers from the different parts of the Greenwood would better serve you in designing a crown for the new season.”_ _

__“...Legolas.”_ _

__“Although, if you are set on including flowers of Eriadorian trees, perhaps a suitable arrangement of both Greenwood flowers and Eriadorian flowers could be arranged. Although we would have to be careful to make sure the flowers survived the trip over the mountains. I am not sure our customary methods of trans-”_ _

__“ _Legolas!_ ” His father interrupted him in clipped tones._ _

__Legolas schooled his expression into one of the utmost surprise, and asked, his own tone sweet obedient as though he were perplexed by his father’s visible annoyance, “Yes, Ada?”_ _

__“I couldn’t care less about my next spring crown right at this moment. Right now, the only concern I have about that book is whether it is the right size and shape to successfully tan the sass out of you by way of your bottom.”_ _

__Legolas’s eyes widened in real surprise this time. It seemed his father was rather more easy to rile up then usual, although Legolas judged the threat to be mostly all bark at this point. Mostly._ _

__Legolas couldn’t quite resist one last comment, though, as it was just too _perfect_ to resist, “I do not think that is an approved use for that book.”_ _

__“I’d be willing to risk the librarian’s ire over it.”_ _

__“Ah. Well. As the librarian seems like a completely dour individual prone to bouts of random violence, I feel it is my job, as your loyal and ever practical Prince, to keep the king from taking unnecessary risks such as this. Therefor, as you seem disinterested in discussing your own reading choices, you may consider the subject dropped.”_ _

__His father gave him a _look_ , and Legolas decided that the plan of simply annoying his father to distraction, while fun, might have Legolas introduced to another new position over his father’s lap in the near future.._ _

__Luckily, annoyance was not his only method of distracting his father. Legolas knew plenty of ways! For instance, sometimes the best way to deal with his father’s overprotective tendencies was to redirect them toward better outlets then simply worrying, “My apologies, Adar, I did not mean to anger you by rudely disregarding your wishes to desist speaking about the book.”_ _

__Thranduil eyed him in evident amusement, much to Legolas’s own bewilderment. His confusion cleared when his father said, “Legolas, I feel I should inform you that your efforts to appear penitent were markedly more successful when I was unable to feel your current emotional state.”_ _

__Well, that was most unfortunate. “But I really didn’t _mean_ to anger you, Ada.” Legolas sent his father a slightly forlorn look, making sure not to overdue it. Legolas would have to be more care if his father was matching what Legolas said with what he could feel. _ _

__“Now, _that_ is the truth. Whatever you _were_ plotting in that head of yours, it didn’t include making me angry.”_ _

__Legolas’s eyes widened, then calmed once more. Thranduil might be able to tell that he was plotting something, but he wouldn’t be able to tell what. Legolas frowned stubbornly at his father._ _

__“And there’s that pout.”_ _

__“This isn’t a pout, Adar, it’s a frown. I’m _frowning_ at you. See?” Legolas frowned more fiercely in demonstration. _ _

__“Hmmm? No, Legolas, I shall have to disagree with you there. And as I am the one who can see it clearly, and have the most experience in being pouted at, it is my opinion that counts.”_ _

__Legolas rolled his eyes expressively, and sighed. Recalling something his father had said to him once, he said, “Really, Adar, there is no winning with you when you are like this.”_ _

__Judging by the way his father’s mouth twitched in amusement, he recalled it as well. “If you mean when I _am_ right, then yes, I suppose it would be difficult to win when the other is right. Although, I am pleased that you have acknowledged it, rather then trying to fight hopelessly on as other, lesser elves, have tried to foolishly tried to do.”_ _

__“I do not know if I would go that far, but if it pleases you to think as such, I suppose it shall please me as well.” And despite the dry manner in which he said it, Legolas _was_ pleased, if only because his father’s fëa had lightened considerably since he’d begun trying to distract him. There was still that undercurrent of concern though, for all that Thranduil seemed distracted from it. _ _

__“Good, now that that matter is settled to both of our satisfaction, it is time to return to return to the matter which started this whole tangent. As I asked before, what did you so desperately need that you couldn’t wait for me to finish the chapter?”_ _

__Legolas blinked at his father. He couldn’t very well say he had wished to be able to annoy his father – that would be an unwise confession – nor could he admit to simply wanting his father’s attention – that would simply be much to embarrassing a confession. Luckily, his stomach took that moment to growl loudly at the both of them in an exceedingly undignified manner, thereby sparing him the need to think of a suitable excuse. Now that he was focusing on it, hunger began gnaw aggressively at his insides in a way he had rarely felt before. Three, or perhaps even four days as he’d not eaten much that previous day, without food would tax even an elf’s sturdy body. “I just wanted to let you know that I wanted some food.” He waved his hands, motioning toward both of their bodies. “I assumed you would prefer some warning rather than be surprised, given our current situation.”_ _

__“Quite.” His father’s voice was dry, but he didn’t voice his disbelief over Legolas’s proposed reason for interrupting his reading as he continued, “Lord Elrond has had a servant deliver a plate of food to the main chamber.”_ _

__There were some negotiation as to how they to get to the main chamber. They were still unable to separate from each other without pain, a quick test proved that without having to actually separate to check. Withdrawing from each other until just their hands touched brought back the steady throbbing in his head, although to a lesser extent.  
What surprised Legolas, though, was the discovery that Thranduil did not feel accompanying pain with the separation._ _

__As they walked through the door of the main chamber, his father’s hand in his own, Thranduil continued, “I too felt the sudden painful shock at complete separation, both earlier when you first awoke and to an even greater extent when it first happened and no one knew the sheer amount of pain attempting to separate us would cause. However, when we are touching, even such as now with only our hands, I feel only the echo of your own pain at the decreased level of contact.” His father sounded both frustrated and concerned once again, the spikes of strong emotion sneaking easily under his father’s hold of them._ _

__Legolas frowned. As interesting as this new information was, once more focusing their situation and the pain it was causing Legolas was ruining all the progress he’d made on improving his father’s mood._ _

__With that thought in mind, instead of continuing on the topic Legolas focused instead on the food situation, despite his curiosity. “Want to bring the platter over to the sitting area?” The small table with two chairs on either side was not conductive to their situation. The table was too narrow for them to sit side by side comfortably, and it would be too awkward to reach across the table while eating with one hand._ _

__Thranduil was already moving, pressing Legolas’s hand to his side with a warning look to behave as he did so. Legolas grinned up at Thranduil and focused on crowding in right behind him as his father picked up the platter of food with both hands and moved to the sitting area, where he placed the platter on the low table in front of the plush lounge that could comfortably hold both of them._ _

__They both sat down on the lounge, side by side, and Legolas immediately started in on the rolls of bread that turned out to have a pocket of minced venison baked inside. He slouched against his father, the skin contact offered by their sides being pressed together helping to stave off the ache he could feel building in his head. Being able to assuage the hollowness of his stomach with food was worth the trade off._ _

__His father seemed less pleased with the trade off. Thranduil spent a couple minutes fidgeting beside him as Legolas devoured half of the roll, practically moaning at the explosion of taste in his mouth. “Adar, do you think Lord Elrond would be willing to part with the recipe for these rolls?”_ _

__“We can but ask,” Thranduil replied, his voice sounding strangely flat. Controlled. Legolas abruptly realizes that his father has been acting… not strangely, exactly, but definantly odd since they’d left the bed. Legolas reached out to him, concerned, fëa curling to brush up against Thranduil in concern, he frowns at the lack of emotion in evidence. Legolas can feel just the faintest impressions of them, buried deeply in the fathomless depths of his father’s fëa._ _

__“Is something wrong Adar?” He puts a hand on his father’s shoulder and turns sideways in order to get a better look at him. The throbbing in his head intensifies a bit at the loss of contact, but that’s easy to dismiss in the face of his concern at the way Thranduil has locked himself up tightly._ _

__Thranduil visibly took a breath, which worried Legolas. His father wasn’t one to show signs of stress, and when he replied, “No, Legolas, it’s nothing, keep eating,” it didn’t serve to reassure Legolas in the slightest._ _

__He frowned at his father and placed what was left of the roll on top of the table. “But there _is_ something, then?”_ _

__“There’s nothing for it, Legolas, just _drop it_.”_ _

__Well _fine_. He would just have to try to find out from himself. His father had been helping himself to Legolas’s emotions this whole time, so Legolas would help himself to his father’s as well._ _


	4. chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for hypothetical non-consensual sexual situations between two unknown people at some point far in the past being discussed.

If simply brushing his fëa against his father’s didn’t grant Legolas access to his emotions, perhaps if he focused more on getting past the fortified outer wall, what was inside might be less shielded. His brow furrowed in determined concentration as he reached out determinedly to press harder against Thranduil’s fëa, not trying to break his way in – just, encourage the hard surface to soften and allow him to wiggle his way in. His attempt slid off the surface fruitlessly, much to his dismay. 

“ _Legolas_...” His father growled warningly, but Legolas ignored this as he continued to press their fëa – and somehow managed to soften his own into a silky, velvety smoothness that rubbed alluringly against his father’s. It felt _good_ , like stretching after being cramped in one position for _days_ or rubbing his body against the softest, plushiest fur blanket. 

Legolas heard Thranduil inhale sharply, and the hard, slick surface of his fëa changed slightly, started to catch on his, and Legolas grinned in triumph at the change. He didn’t know if the change meant he was getting closer to his goal, but it felt more welcoming then the stone like structure his father had felt like before. What could he do next to further soften his father’s fëa to him? He’d changed his own unconsciously, had known instinctively how to become all soft with velvety smoothness, and right now his instincts were urging him to press harder, to mentally drape himself across as much of his father’s fëa as he could. He had no reason to resist those urges, especially not now that he could feel the other fëa start to respond to his, start to soften slightly and press back cautiously despite Thranduil’s continued efforts to remain strong and impervious. 

He caught a fleeting glance of his father looking absolutely _stunned_ just before he closed his eyes and removed the distraction of the physical world in order to better concentrate on the sensations he was feeling through his fëa. 

His father growled, a sudden snarl echoing ominously in his ears that made him twitch in alarm. He suddenly found himself – by way of his fëa rather than his body this time – tightly restrained in place, surrounded by the suddenly overwhelming force of Thranduil’s fëa holding his own in a secure hold.

The hand gripping his father’s shoulder tightened as he struggled against the seemingly endless stores of strength of the fëa holding his, completely overwhelmed by the all encompassing of this method of restraint. Legolas could move his body still – although even his hröa seemed sluggish to respond – but that freedom seemed slight compared with the restraint placed over his fëa.

The instinctive snarl that curled in his throat sounded thready and weak, as though the effort it takes to do so drained the energy from it, and it turned into a gasp for breath half way through. The sound made Thranduil loosen the hold immediately, gentle it in what Legolas would call an apologetic manner had it been anyone but his father.

With the pressure lifted, Legolas could think about something other than the weight of it pressing him down, and the first thing that came to mind was that, for the first _real_ time, he’d seen his father _completely and utterly_ lose his self-control. The second thought was that his father must be closer to the edge of his endurance than Legolas had assumed, if Thranduil was so easily pushed over it.  
Either that, or pushing up against another’s fëa like a cat marking their territory had _wildly_ different connotations then he’d assumed. He just wasn’t going to think about that right now.

Somehow, blindly following his instincts didn’t seem like such a good idea anymore.

His father looked like he was torn between feeling shocked and heartrenchingly guilty, so Legolas pulled himself together enough to ask, quietly as though to a startled deer, “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong now?” He used his free hand to cup the side of his father’s face, hopefully drawing his father’s attention away from whatever guilt festival was taking on inside of his mind and back onto Legolas. 

Legolas could freak out as to whether or no he had just inadvertently propositioned his father later. Much later.

Perhaps never.

Thranduil seemed to shake himself out of it and opened his mouth as though to say something only to close it again with a sigh and a shake his head. 

Sensing that his father, if pressed, might finally be willing to share some of what was going on inside that head of his, Legolas coaxed in a gentle tone and somewhat playful tone, “What, you can help me, sense what I am feeling, but the second I try to see what is wrong, it’s suddenly all about privacy?”

“It is not your place to do so. As your father-”

“You may be my father, but now I am also your bonded now. I may not have _that_ all figured out yet, but I am pretty sure it doesn’t include clamming up like you usually do whenever something bad happens.” Legolas interrupted sharply. “Just tell me, is it something with the bond? I’m capable imagining some pretty horrible things going wrong all on my own, and it would really be easier if you just told me truth.”

Thranduil stared at him, frowning pensively. He finally nodded, although Thranduil looked unhappy about it. Thranduil reached out and took hold of him by the arms, leaning back so he could situate Legolas comfortable on top of him once more. The ache in Legolas’s head receded once more, drawing a sigh of relief from Legolas and a minute relaxation of muscles from Thranduil. 

Legolas eyed up at his father suspiciously, “I thought you said only complete separation brought you pain.”

“I’m reacting to your pain, which is part of the problem. Now _hush_ while I give you the explanation you so wanted. Or better yet-” His father broke off, and abruptly stuffed a roll inside of his mouth. “Eat. I apologize for the rough way I handled you earlier. Nothing amiss seems to have come from it, but with the stress both of our fëar are under right now, I should not have risked stressing your fëa by handling it in such a manner right now. We should both refrain from doing anything that could further stress them. That would include my rough handling, as well as your own rather, how should I put it… _skillful display_?”

His father’s insinuating tone brought color into Legolas’s ears as they turned pink in embarrassment, and he could even start to feel his cheeks starting to flush hotly, “I didn’t mean it _that_ way!” His voice was muffled by the cushion as Legolas tried to bury his face in between his father’s side and the back of the lounge cushion with an embarrassed whine. 

“ _Hush_ ,” Thranduil’s fingers combed through his hair comfortingly, “I know you were simply trying to manipulate me into letting down some of my mental barriers. I do wonder how you knew how to do that though. I _know_ that was not taught in your lessons about fëar.”

“Instinct?” Legolas’s voice was muffled yet still intelligible.

“Mmm, it was adeptly done, if ill advised – contorting and texurizing your fëa in such a manner can be, shall we say, exhausting under normal circumstances, and to do so when your fëa is already exhausted and in distress. It is not advised, to say the least… So, when you didn’t listen to my demands for you to desist, I sought to restrain you. In my surprise at you rubbing on me like a mare in search of her first stallion, though, I’m afraid I was a bit more overzealous than I meant to be in restraining you.”

“Oh, Eru, _Adar!_ You aren’t helping! _I did not!_ ” Trust his father to make this situation even _more_ mortifying. Maybe he could just disappear into the lounge. Or bludgeon his father unconscious. “It’d serve you right if I bit you again.”

“I’d bite you back,” Thranduil hummed in amusement.

Legolas fumed silently in embarrassment, throat tingling where his father had responded in kind to being bitten, “You, _Ada_ , are much too fond of retaliation _and_ escalation for my peace of mind. It’s like you can’t resist seeing just how far you can push things. And don’t think I don’t see what you are trying to do, Adar,” He lifted his head and wagged his finger chidingly in the air at his father, “I’ve seen you do it too often to fall for it again.”

“Oh? And just what am I doing?”

“You like to say – or do – outlandish and, at times, _completely_ inappropriate things in order to get whoever you are talking to so twisted up and confused that you can turn the conversation from whatever it is you do not wish to discuss to something you _do_ wish to talk about.” Legolas frowned at his father to convey his seriousness, “Now tell me, plainly and without prevarication, what had you so freaked out before?” 

His father looked resigned. "I think I appreciate your doggedness more when it isn’t aimed at myself.” Thranduil paused pensively for a few seconds, then finally nodded with a sigh. “I suppose I should start with the cause of all of this. Observing what has happened will better explain why I was, as you so eloquently put it, ‘so freaked out’, as well as my reluctance to cause anymore stress to our fëar.” 

“You keep talking about stress, that what happened was dangerous, but… I mean, I _feel_ you now, when you aren’t blocking me out, but other than that, I don’t really feel any different, at least when we are touching like this. I don’t feel as if my fëa has been stressed. Shouldn’t there be more – I don’t know, more pain?”

“There is. You just aren’t feeling it. Let me see if I can – Ah, right. That should still hold.” 

“What should still hold - _what?!_ ” Legolas had the sensation of being abruptly dragged down, not physically but mentally, and Legolas had to close his eyes to block out the conflicting signals his eyes were sending him and instead focus on the picture being shown to him inside his mind.

“The picture you’re seeing in your mind is what your fëa is sensing. Our minds translate it into a form more easily understood. It can be disconcerting at first, but you’ll get used to it. Look around you – _mentally_ , Legolas, you don’t actually have to move your head, and keep your eyes close. It will be easier for you understand what you are sensing if your mind isn’t having to interpret both at the same time. At least until you a lot more practice with it.”

 

He could feel – see? - his father’s fëa surrounding him, but unlike earlier, it wasn’t pushing at him. Instead, it felt kind of felt like he was– Oh. He _was _inside. “This is you, right? All this mist, it’s you.” He reached out to touch the glowing, fog like mist that surrounded him, and was somehow able to touch it despite not having a physical body. The mist felt _warm_ in a way Legolas had a hard time describing, and far denser then mist could ever be. It felt welcoming as it shimmered at him, as if it wanted Legolas to toss himself into it. “You’re so… _shiny_.” The bright shimmering glow was hard to draw his attention once he’d noticed it. It seemed to dance around him, like it was pleased he was here and preened under his attention. __

__“Yes, yes, _shiny_ ,” Legolas could practically hear Thranduil rolling his eyes, “Focus, Legolas. Show some wherewithal by not being distracted by the bright shiny lights. Legolas felt himself being forcibly dragged away from the section he’d been entranced by, and toward a section that felt decidedly less fun. _ _

__“But it seemed so playful and pleased to s-”_ _

__“ _Ignore it_ and focus on what I brought you here for!” Thranduil snapped at him, and Legolas was surprised to recognize a note of embarrassment in his tone. _ _

___Ah._ _ _

__Bright, shiny, and playful were not words Thranduil would be pleased to be described as. And yet, if it was true that all this mist _was_ Thranduil, then those were words that described him. Or, at least, parts of him. The less controlled parts. The parts that wanted to shimmer and dance around him like an over excited puppy. He’d have to remember that observation for the next time his father decided to compare him to a _mare_._ _

__Legolas pushed aside those thoughts as he caught sight of what his father had brought him here to see._ _

__As he watched, the mist surrounding it seemed to become more and more transparent, like spun glass. This section of mist-glass protected a quarantined section of Thranduil’s fëa and… “That’s mine... _ **This**_ is what is happening to us?” Beyond the mist-glass were sections of their fëar, but unlike the healthy glow other parts of his father’s fëa had had, the fëar under the mist-glass were dimmer, and they didn’t shimmer brightly. _ _

__It was the third thing under the mist-glass that caught his attention the most. “I felt that _thing_ earlier, didn’t I? The thing that felt like it was clawing at me.” He shuddered._ _

__“Yes, I’ve been trying to shield it from our senses, but when you tried to sense what was wrong with your fëa, you slipped past my control. I have a better handle on it now.”_ _

__Legolas understood now why his father felt so stressed. Not only was he dealing with what this _thing_ was doing to him, but he was also exerting all of his mental control into keeping it contained. _ _

__How was what his father doing possible?_ _

__Even with all his skill and power, he should not have been able to keep the sheer amount of pain and _wrongness_ he was seeing contained._ _

__The foreign thing attached to them both was blood red ( _splashed across a book and dripping from his hand_ ). Parts of it had faded into near nothingness, a pink sheen of shiny, still healing rawness on the parts of their fëa that had already been successfully woven and fused together into their new bond. Most of it was still an angry blood red that pulsed with power as it dug its way into both their fëar, which was as close as Legolas wanted to look at _that_ part of the process. He didn’t want to know more. _ _

__Legolas shied away from view. The mist-glass fogged over obligingly, and then started to thicken into what looked like metal._ _

__“How are you even doing that?” Legolas reached out to touch the part of his father’s fëa that had hardened like tempered steel._ _

__“Very carefully, so please don’t poke at it. Creating something that could contain it while still allowing you to look at that part of your fëa was even more difficult, so I hope you saw what you needed to see. I’m going to bring you back to the surface, let yourself have time to acclimate before you open your eyes.”_ _

__Legolas waited precising ten seconds before he opened his eyes and propped himself up on his father’s chest, brimming with questions. “How are you able to shield me from that? Our fëa are _literally_ being torn and then fused together. We should both be mad from the pain, or at the very least be near senseless from the pain.”_ _

__“I have had experience in healing with injuries to the fëa before, although it was nothing to this magnitude,” Thranduil replied, then begrudgingly added, “Lord Elrond also had a hand in assisting me devise shields that would hold against it, once we realized the pain was not going to go away anytime soon. He also thinks that the bond itself has some sort of mild numbing property that assists with the worst of it.” His father shot him a sly glance, “Lord Elrond is quite mortified that you found such a dark artifact in his House and was almost annoyingly apologetic about it.”_ _

__“Oh? And how did you react?”_ _

__“Oh, do not give me such a dirty look, I was quite diplomatic.” Thranduil glanced sideways at him. “Well… quite diplomatic after I raged at him for about two hours once you were stable again. I may not have been at my best. Though, I’m quite sure he would have thought _I_ was dying had I had behaved more calmly. So.. after a fashion I was saving him from more worry. You must understand, at this point we had no real idea what was happening, only that something in his house nearly killed you, and that his staff nearly killed both of us again when they tried to separate us. Lord Elrond, at least, was intelligent enough to figure out the separation would kill us both before the idiots of his house could finish the job.”_ _

__“It nearly killed us? Can it still do so?” Legolas threw his arms around Thranduil torso, as if Thranduil were suddenly in danger of rolling off the lounge._ _

__Thranduil rubbed his back soothingly, “No, not anymore, just unholy amounts of pain. The part of the bond that is finished is capable of supporting the part that is still being fused together. Before that though, it would have bled out all of our energy until we were dead.”_ _

__Legolas relaxed his hold, “I don’t understand one thing about this situation.”_ _

__“Oh, just _one_ thing? You are far ahead of myself then, as there are still many things I do not have a clue about, perhaps you could clarify all those points for me.” _ _

__Legolas rolled his eyes and waved a hand at their bodies. “You’re been facetious again, _do try to focus_ ,” Legolas said, exactly emulating Thranduil’s manner and phrasing. “We have to be close like this or else I start getting a headache that escalates the longer I spend without being so close to you. Why are you not feeling this as well? It makes no sense, if its from the bond, then should we both feel it?”_ _

__Thranduil bit the inside of cheek. “That is another thing we haven’t quite figured out, although we were able to make quite a few suppositions about it. Even when you were unconscious or asleep, we – Lord Elrond and I – were quickly able understand that you needed. I tried shielding you from it as I did with the rest of the pain cause by the bond, but was unable to do so. Bodily contact though, did decrease the pain, both the pain you were feeling and the pain caused by the method of forming the bond, with skin to skin contact being the most effective.”_ _

__“So that’s how you knew to do that...”_ _

__“Yes. The why of it we didn’t know. Why was I not feeling the pain? Why couldn’t I block it?” Thranduil pulled Legolas closer to him, cupping the back of his head protectively as he pressed his father pressed his cheek to the top of Legolas’s head. “And then we reviewed what we knew of the bond. It’s a modified fëa bond that by its very design could be used to force an elf into a bond in a relatively short amount of time when compared to the many years – if not hundreds of years – that it takes a bond to form naturally. Even if the bond was designed by two elves who were unable to form the bond naturally but wanted one anyway, why the rush when lengthening the time the bond has to take hold would greatly reduce the amount of pain felt by both parties as well as the danger. Without the need for such a large section of fëa being torn open at once, there would be no danger of energy bleed out, no reason to have to remain in constant contact for fear of pain or death. Allowing extra time for the bond to form would solve so many problems, and what is ten or even 20 years to an elf?”_ _

__“Whoever designed it was worried that the other, the one he forced into the bond, would escape...” Legolas trailed off, horrified, and shuddered again as he tried not to think about how the elf this was originally was designed for would have felt, waking up – most likely confused, hurt, and in pain – to find not someone they trusted, as he had, but a stranger – or worse, an enemy or a… “Which do you think would be worse, to have an enemy force this on you, or someone you thought of as a friend?”_ _

__Legolas felt Thranduil’s own shudder of horror at the thought. “What a positively dreadful train of thought you must have had to have _that_ be at the end of it.”_ _

__“I was thinking of how the elf this was designed for must have felt, when he woke up for the first time after being attacked in such a manner… Did he wake up to an enemy, or one he had thought of as a friend? An eternity chained to an enemy… or an eternity chained to a friend who perpetrated upon him or her the worst betrayal possible?” Thranduil reached to wipe the tears Legolas hadn’t realized had gathered in his eyes in sympathy at the plight of this unknown elf._ _

__“Perhaps we ought to talk about something else, no good can come from this line of questioning,” Thranduil said, protective side rousing._ _

__“No, I wish to know what you have figured out. The poor elf this was designed to trap cannot be helped now, not with how old that book was.” Legolas brightened as he remembered, “But the book was not used before I stumbled across it, was it not? Perhaps the nefarious designer of the book never got a chance to put his plans into motion!” Legolas slumped when he saw the somber expression on his father’s face. “So it was used then,” he said, voice flat with disappointment. “I can read it in your face.”_ _

__“There was another copy of the same book in the box, hidden beneath a false bottom, and blooded in the same manner as the one that cause this. It has every sign of having fulfilled its original purpose, although the blood has faded so much that it makes Lord Elrond believe that it took place long ago, perhaps even as far back as the first age.”_ _

__“So long ago… and two copies of the book? Did Lord Elrond check for more? What if there are more hiding just waiting for someone to stumble across it?”_ _

__“He did and those were the only two found. He has sent out riders to the other elven cities who did not already have their leaders here for the council, warning of the danger this book brings with it. I made sure he kept our names out of it, and he showed me the missives before they went out. He kept out any details that would identify us. And, as much as I may go out of my way to occasionally annoy him, his word carries the weight it needs to impose upon the other leaders the danger copies of this book has without having to drag our own private matters into it.”_ _

__Legolas felt some relief at that. “That is something, at least. Nothing could be surmised about the elf the other book was used on?”_ _

__“Not a thing, and Lord Elrond is trying to decide if he should make inquiries about it, and if so, what the best manner of doing so is.”_ _

__“Then there is truly nothing else to be done for whoever that poor elf was.” Legolas paused, brow furrowed in confusion. “I still do not understand though, Adar. We have strayed from my original question. Why do I feel pain when we do no have enough physical contact, but you do not? It makes no sense to me. If you do not feel it, then it is not something that happens because the bond needs it to form. It has to be an added feature, does it not?”_ _

__“That is the conclusion Lord Elrond and I came to.”_ _

__“But why? What purpose does it serve then making it more difficult for everyone involved – unless it was just a way to cause extra pain to the one being forced to be bonded, but you said you could feel echos of it through the bond. So that makes having the goal of inflicting even more pain unlikely. Was it an accident? Am I going to have a headache every time we are not touching like this for an eternity? Is this permanent?”_ _

__“The book has been rather difficult to decrypt, but from what we have been able to figure out from the on runes, it is a temporary effect that was purposefully included.”_ _

__Legolas sighed in relief when he heard it was temporary, “But why include it at all? While nothing about forcing a bond makes sense, this random stipulation makes even less sense to me.”_ _

__“I do not believe it was random, but instead a rather heavy handed attempt at manipulation.”_ _

__“Manipulate to get what? Whoever designed it made sure the elf could not escape before the bond was fully formed.”_ _

__“Can you not think of any other reason that a ruthless elf with no scruples whatsoever would want to include such a thing?”_ _

__Legolas stared blankly at his father, then ventured a guess when he realized that his father simply wouldn’t tell him, “Perhaps as a back up plan in case the elf found a way past the first?”_ _

__“Possible, but extremely unlikely. Even from this side of the bond, even with the amount of skill I have in blocking out pain, trying to escape before the bond finished fusing is an impossible task. He wouldn’t need a back up plan, because the sheer amount of pain trying to escape would render escape impossible. Lets go back to beginning. Why would an elf want to bind another in such a way in the first place?”_ _

__“Besides the fact that he’s a horrible elf?” His father gave him an unamused stare. “Really, Ada, I have no idea why _any_ elf would want to do this to another elf. The very thought of it happening makes me feel sick inside, at an instinctive level. To even think about doing this to another elf in the abstract makes my skin crawl and my fëa revolt. I can’t imagine how an elf could design this monstrosity, much less implement it. Did his fëa not cry out against it?”_ _

__Thranduil stared at him for several long moments, face blank before he sighed resignedly. “Sometimes, my very young, naive son, I forget just how truly young you are, and how little of the evil in this world you have seen.”_ _

__Legolas frowned, “I am not so _very_ young, Adar. And I have fought spiders, are they not the very manifestation of the growing evil permeating our forests?_ _

__“That is not the evil that can inhabit the hearts of elves. You have been taught the history of your family, of the multiple kin-slayings. The first age saw elves perpetrate evil against other elves. Darkness can thrive even in the hearts of elves, although we are nowhere near as susceptible to it as mortals are. In elves such as these, positive emotions becomes twisted. Love into obsession, attraction twisted into a desire to own with no thought to what the focus of that desire might wish.”_ _

__“You mean he would want to…” Legolas shivered and huddled himself further into the protection offered by the space between his father and the back of the lounge. “He would wish to force not only the bond onto...” Legolas shuddered again, and shook his head in denial. “I did not think that an elf would – that an elf _could_ do such a thing, although I suppose if he were willing to force a bond, forcing other things might not seem so… abhorrent.” _ _

__“That is the odd thing. During the formation of the bond, part of the process anchors the fëa in place. However, the magic that fuses them together seems to be fade completely once the connection is formed. On the parts that fused first, the magic is completely gone or nearly so. Lord Elrond has hypothesized that once the bond is complete, the anchor disappears as well. The anchor requires a lot of energy, and just for that fact it seems unlikely that the anchor could ever be used as a long term solution. If he tried to force anything after the anchor faded, he ran the risk of enabling the fëa of the other elf to flee.”_ _

__“That still left however long it took the bond to form and the anchor to fade, and having to touch like this would make it much hard to avoid unwanted attentions.”_ _

__“Ah, so you don’t know, although that I suppose that cannot be attributed solely to your periodic lack of attention during schooling. I only knew what to expect having had experienced it before. You were paying attention when you were taught the role the fëa plays in the sexual responses of the hröa, were you not?”_ _

__“Yes, Adar, I learned it upon reaching majority, along with all the other younglings in my age group,” Legolas refrained from rolling his eyes. “I didn’t not sleep through that lesson, nor any other lesson. And I will continue to deny even sleeping through a lesson, even if that lesson was the most ill thought out lesson in the entire history of lessons.”_ _

__

__“Moving on...When fëar reach a certain threshold of stress, damage, and pain they become unable to spark sexual responses in the hröa. What the formation of the bond requires more than meets that threshold. Someone as familiar in fëar as whoever crafted the book would have know that as well.”_ _

__Someone familiar with fëar, who had the skills required craft everything needed to anchor the fëa, force them together, and do whatever it was that allowed them fuse together… “Whoever designed and crafted that book, he knew exactly what he was doing, didn’t he? It wasn’t something he could slap together haphazardly, he would have to purposely find a way to tear through fëa, would have known at least on an intellectual level the damage he was planning on inflicting on another elf.” It was a chilling thought. “This wasn’t someone’s brash, hastily planned folly, was it.”_ _

__“No. Some of the people on Lord Elrond’s staff who have studied runes and symbols for centuries are having trouble reading the runes, as they too have been modified and warped to fit the purpose. I’ve been told that to develop them in the first place, to first locate the runes that would best fit, then modify them into what they are now and link them with the corresponding symbols would have taken years. He would have had ample time to think about what he was doing, and to think about the effects. And then choose to do it anyway.”_ _

__“So there was no way he wouldn’t have known that during the time the anchor and compulsion to touch were active, his own fëa would not have been capable of sparking anything in his hröa.”_ _

__“A fair assumption.”_ _

__“But he still wished for the other to have to choose between either more physical contact or more pain?”_ _

__“That is _exactly_ what he wanted the other to choose between. He wished to manipulate how the other elf viewed him. The elf he had attacked would have woken up and been disoriented, in pain, and confused and most likely unsure as to what was happening. By the time the time the bond finished settling and fusing together and the pain faded along with the magic, even the most strong willed elves would find it difficult not to associate touching the other with a diminishing of the pain, as something that granted relief, especially as the designer somehow managed to link the numbing agent along with it. They wouldn’t have had the shields to keep the pain at bay, as the shields require another’s help to put into place as well as the skill to keep them in place, he would have been relying on the numbing agent to keep the pain at a somewhat manageable level throughout the process.” _ _

__“And the escalating levels of pain in addition to the pain coming from the formation of the bond was something he added just to make sure that his victim came around to his way of thinking.”_ _

__Thranduil nodded in agreement at his conclusion, “An elf may get used to a static amount of pain, but one that just keeps escalating is rather harder to resist. It may also have been a way of desensitizing the other for anything that may have occurred after the bond finished forming.”_ _

__An angry voice came from behind them, startling them both, “ _Thranduil_ when I said that you should tell him what happened, I was not implying that you should take that as permission to stress out my patient with horror stories of the past!”_ _


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elrond comes to visit, and Thranduil sulks about having something he wanted kept hidden from Legolas revealed.

Legolas startled violently at the disturbance of a third person’s voice into the privacy of their suite. His first reaction was to curl defensively toward his father at the angry tone, despite Elrond’s ire being directed toward Thranduil rather than himself. 

His father, on the other hand, sat up slightly and eyed Elrond with pointedly dismissive nonchalance. Legolas sat back as well, drawing his knees to his chest, and wiggled a place for himself to sit between the back of the lounge and his father’s legs. Thranduil frowned momentarily at the distance imposed by Legolas’s new sitting arrangement, but didn’t comment on it, evidently sensing how uncomfortable he was at the prospect of cuddling with his father in front of another. Thranduil’s attention switched back to Elrond, although he wrapped a hand around Legolas’s bare ankle and squeezed gently in what he assumed was his father’s non-vocal protest at what Thranduil undoubtedly viewed as unnecessary bashfulness on Legolas’s part. “Hypothetical horror stories, _Lord_ Elrond,” Thranduil said, emphasizing the title he attached to the name in objection of the familiar way Elrond had addressed him. 

If he noticed the emphasis, Elrond paid it no heed as he responded, “Hypothetical or not, with the anchor still drawing dangerous amounts of energy it was unwise to broach that subject at this time, Thranduil.” Elrond glanced past them to the half eaten food on the table. “Did Legolas at least get any additional sleep before you both came out here to eat?” 

“Several hours,” Thranduil replied, evidently deciding to acknowledge Elrond’s superior knowledge as a healer in this case and answer his questions. “Then we came out here to eat, and he started asking questions about what happened, and I saw no reason to keep the truth from him. I thought it better to discuss it together rather than leave it for him to obsess over on his own.”

Elrond continued this line of questioning, occasionally requiring some input from Legolas, but the two elder elves, for the most part, carried on the discussion – interspersed with what Legolas’s was somewhat surprised to identify as _friendly_ banter – between themselves.

When the subject turned to the different levels of pain caused by lack of contact, Elrond’s attention turned fully from Thranduil onto himself, and Legolas found himself on the receiving end on a disapproving frown. “If the bond is still trying to keep the two of you close together, then you should heed it, even if you find it disquieting to do so in front of another.”

Before Legolas could voice his opinion of just what he thought of Elrond trying to dictate the level in which he and his father were touching, Thranduil’s hand – which had stayed on his ankle throughout the conversation – squeezed tightly, warning Legolas that being rude to Elrond would draw his father’s disapproval down on himself. Legolas fell silent and settled on simply on petulantly frowning back at Elrond and staying firmly where he was to convey his feelings on the matter. 

“I am keeping track of my son’s pain levels, and in this case, I would rather not take away what little choice he has in this whole situation while at the same time causing him extra embarrassment.”

Elrond nodded, disapproval morphing into sympathy in his expression. “I will keep my visit short then, and come to the point which brought about my visit in the first place, although I feel as though I can already guess the answer. Celeborn wishes to visit and see you both are fairing.”

Legolas felt an abrupt spike of aggravation from his father, and he wasn’t surprised when his father replied with a terse, “No. He can keep his interest to himself, for I have no intention of indulging it.”

“He is simply concerned, Thranduil. You are the closest family he has left, aside from my own family. It is natural that he should feel concerned when something happens to the two of you, doubly so as he was with me when we discovered the both of you.” 

“I have allowed your own intrusion into mine and my son’s business because of your expertise as a healer, and that of your researchers for their expertise with runes. I, however, will not allow _Lord_ Celeborn to interfere simply to satisfy his own _curiosity_. It is bad enough I have to allow your own poking and prodding,” Thranduil said curtly, and his father’s aggravation snapped and crackled energetic along the bond. Legolas wondered if his father realized the way he used titles to distance people from himself, and if so, whether it was intentional.

“I will inform Celeborn that you are not currently accepting visitors at this time. I doubt he will be surprised by your answer, although I believe he was rather hoping otherwise. Now, onto the second reason for my visit.”

“Another reason? Hopefully it is more relevant then the previous one.”

Elrond continued as though he’d not heard Thranduil’s rather rude, at least in Legolas’s opinion, interjection, “The researchers have identified a rune that think is part of controlling the speed at which your two fëar are intertwined, however, they need a current reading of the how far it has progressed to accurately determine the length of time the spell takes to complete its task. We originally estimated a full ten days based on the rate it began with, however… the newly identified rune makes them think that the original assessment was incorrect.”

His father’s expression shut down and drew in on itself as he analyzed the new information, but Legolas felt the rising tension and apprehension that lay underneath the king’s stony exterior as easily as he would feel his own, although he did not quite understand why the news brought about such feelings in his father. The end result would be the same so what difference would the time it took to finish take? “What is the new estimate? Surely not shorter. Even the ten days of the previous estimate… Surely it can not be any shorter than ten days.”

“I cannot give an exact length until I preform a reading of its current state, however, based on what we have been able to read from the visible runes, the ten days we originally estimated was to generous.”

His father’s temper slipped the tight rein he usually managed to keep it under and erupted into a fiery display of wrath, “Too generous? _Too **generous**_? Come to me when it is _you_ who find yourself bound to one of your sons, and tell me _then_ if you find ten days _**too generous**_! When it is one of _your_ sons who barely survived those first few days of having his very self being torn asunder, despite of having his fëa chain to his body. Tell me then if you would call _ten days_ generous, and how you would react to hearing that you both may not even have those ten measly days.” 

Legolas trembled under the wave of pure emotion that flowed freely through the bond, the raw mixture of _fearangerworry_ that lashed against him made his fëa ache sensitively. Elrond’s sharp gaze noticed the effect on Legolas immediately, despite him not having made a sound under the onslaught. Elrond’s response was quick and decisive as he snapped at Thranduil sharply, “Control yourself, Thranduil! _Look_ at what you do to your son. Can you not feel his distress?”

Just as quickly as it started, Thranduil’s iron control slams back down, the abrupt stranglehold and absence of any emotion bleeding over onto Legolas nearly as jarring as the sudden onslaught had been. Elrond made an aggravated noise and stalked forward to close the distance between himself and the two elves on the lunge. Elrond placed a firm hand to Legolas’s back and forcefully pushed him forward until he was pressed against his father. Elrond sounded slightly apologetic as he said, “I know you feel uneasy at appearing weak in front of others, but it is not only for yourself that I encourage you to bare it and do so anyway.”

Thranduil an aggravated glare of his own toward Elrond, yet his hands went to grip Legolas closer, and the walls that had arisen between them softened slightly. “If Legolas feels uncomfortable with it, I do not feel it is your place to try to change his mind.”

“And I wish to make sure that he has all the pertinent information before he makes that decision. Tell me, Legolas, what information did your father impart to you, aside from the horrific suppositions we hypothesized as to the origins of the spell?”

Legolas cast an uneasy glance up as his father, who continued to glower at Elrond. He took the risk that answering the elven lord’s question would direct that stare toward himself and said, “He showed me the spell itself, how it is binding our fëar together, as well as the shields you helped him to construct. He also informed me of how the stress of the spell on our fëar impacts the connection it has with our hröa.”

Elrond eyed his father with disapproval, then turned his attention to Legolas, “Then he told you nothing of the instincts that the forming of the bond will undoubtedly raise in yourself at some point in the future, and, based on what I have already seen from Thranduil today, have already raised in himself?”

“Legolas still has many years before he must worry about such instincts being aroused,” Thranduil interjected sharply, “It is only because of my own greater age and experience prior experience with a marriage bond that they have already awoken in myself. As he is still quite young for an elf, and has had no prior experience with fëa bonds of any sort to stir those instincts, there is no reason that my own troubles should be added to his already great number of troubles.”

Legolas’s mouth dropped open, his own ire spiking, “So you admit that you purposefully kept _another_ thing from me?” Legolas frowned fiercely at his father before turning his head to face Elrond, and answered the lord’s previous question, “No, he has withheld that information from me.”  
“Thranduil, though I understand your desire to keep from adding to your son’s troubles, I think you are simply indulging those instincts, and not taking into account that Legolas must be the one to deal with how _you_ react to those instincts.”

Thranduil gave a resigned sigh and waved a hand toward Elrond, “I see you have already made up your mind.” His father turned his head to face the adjacent wall, evidently intent of ignoring them both until the conversation was finished, although his father’s arm went around his waist to draw Legolas protectively closer into Thranduil’s larger form.

With a strike of incite, Legolas realized his father found his inability to control his own instincts _embarrassing_. He undoubtedly wished to protect Legolas from what he viewed as unnecessary stress, but for someone who valued control as much as his father to be controlled by his instincts would be difficult to handle, to say nothing of how mortifying he would find it to have to try to admit that failure to his own son. Legolas wanted to comfort his father, assure him that the knowledge would not change his opinion of his father, nor the respect he had for him, but he knew that the effort would only make matter worse by reminding Thranduil of his own vulnerability. Instead, relaxed once more in his father’s firm hold, turned his attention to Elrond, and ignored the way his ears were slowly turning pink under the half-elven lord’s gentle gaze.

“The first thing you should know is that fëa bonds of any sort, whether they are the more common marriage bonds formed when children come into being, or the rarer bond that forms between fëa that sing to each other complementary songs.” Legolas felt the raise and fall of his father’s derisive, near silent huff of disbelief at Elrond’s poetic way of describing why bonds are formed. Elrond paused, giving Thranduil the opportunity to say something, but when his father stayed silent, he continued, “Yours falls under the latter, for all that the designer of the spell somehow managed to bypass anything that stood in his way to forming it, the end result should be a bond that indistinguishable to one that formed naturally over the span of a hundred years or more. Both of these types of bonds arouse instincts in elves that are meant to help both elves survive, prosper, and find happiness in that bond, for they are permanent and once formed not even the Valor dissolve it. Usually these instincts arise slowly over the course of a number of years, although with younger elves these instincts are usually milder and do not show for tens, if not hundreds of years.”

Elrond paused for breath, and Legolas hurried to interject a question, “Why is that? Wouldn’t those instincts be as helpful to younger elves?”

“It has been assumed that it is because younger elves are less set in their ways and are less in need of them. Elves who bond when they are older need the extra help those instincts provide. However, those instincts can backfire when it comes to odd situations such as the one you find yourselves in now. The pain the bond causes you when you are apart undoubtedly rouses Thranduil’s need to protect what his instincts recognize as his bond-mate, as its source comes from something that has come close to killing you. These instincts, coming from the same part of our brains that control our automatic responses to outside stimuli, aren’t able to rationalize his inability to do anything protect you from the very thing that is forming the bond between you, and the continuous hounding of his instincts that demand he protect you from the thing that almost killed you makes him more irritable than usual. Hense the outburst just now.”

“So there is the protective instinct, what other ones are there?” Legolas asked.

“It is different for each one. I have told you of the one that is currently making your father more reactive than usual so that the both of you can work together to make sure that _both_ of you are able to avoid unnecessary stress and get more sleep. It is not just you, Legolas, whose fëa has been damaged by this spell after all.”

Thranduil abruptly sat up, moving him so that Legolas pressed up against his side rather than his front. “I do believe that we have gotten off topic. What is the length of time that bond has to form?”

The change in topic was obvious, as was his uneasiness over the previous one. Elrond obligingly allowed the change of topic, as he had imparted the information he had wished Legolas to know. “I will not be able to give that answer to you until I have accessed the current progress of the bond, and figured it into what we currently know about the different stages the spell progresses through as it weaves your fëar together.”

“Then do what you must and _**leave**_ us.”

Elrond nodded, evidently sensing as Legolas had that his father had been pushed as far as he could be at this point. Elrond lifted his arm and held his hand out, then waited. Legolas leaned forward so that his head would be in Elrond’s reach, only to lean back in confusion when Elrond shook his head. His father sighed in aggravation, confusing Legolas even more. Elrond cleared his throat, then said, “Thranduil is the one that is shielding the bond. It is through his fëa I need to inspect, not yours.”

“Oh.” Legolas glanced apprehensively up at Thranduil, who was once more glowering at Elrond. His father hated even his hröa being touched, how much worse must it be to have to allow Elrond touch his fëa? Would he have to allow Elrond _inside_ as he had Legolas in order for him to view the bond? Legolas felt the odd urge to growl at Elrond and keep him well away from his father at that thought. He suppressed that urge, although he had to grit his teeth to avoid snarling at Elrond as he came closer to the side of the lounge he and Thranduil were nestled into. Elrond glanced at Legolas in surprise, somehow able to read some part of what was going on beneath his tightly controlled exterior.

“No need to be offended on my behalf, Legolas, it isn’t as if Elrond has not done so before, both in helping set up the shielding around the forming bond as well as to check on its progress. I simply find it _extremely_ and _unbelievably_ distasteful to experience. However, what must be, must be, and if it will get you out of here that much faster, will you just get it over with already?” His father may be able to pick up on what he was feeling, but he couldn’t tell _why_ or what the source of those feelings were. Thranduil tilted his head to the side, offering up the appropriate points of access on his face, although he didn’t lean forward as Legolas had done to make it easier for Elrond. 

Legolas eyed Elrond darkly as he moved forward toward them both, and Elrond eyed him with an appraising look of his own, especially when Elrond reached out with one hand toward Thranduil’s head and Legolas leaned forward slightly as if to bite down on that hand, although he checked himself before he did so, and instead nestled further into his father’s side and continue to glare at Elrond. 

“Somehow, I do not think he is simply feeling offending on your behalf,” Elrond said dryly.

“Well, _I_ feel offended on my behalf, and I also feel that I know my son better than you do. Are you going to do it, or did you change your mind?”

Elrond reached past him to press his fingers to the correct points, and Legolas had the irrational desire to insinuate himself between their two fëa and snarl at Elrond until he went away. He managed to contain himself for the long minutes it took Elrond to complete his evaluation and withdraw once more. It was Legolas that he was eying curiously as he stepped away from them both, but Legolas was already finding it much easier to relax once more now that Elrond had withdrawn. 

Elrond tilted his head as he continued to eye them both, then finally said, “I will return later, once we have more answers for you. My recommendations for the both of you is to eat some more, then try to get more sleep. Avoid stress if at all possible.” With those last words, Elrond turned and exited their suite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this universe, a marriage bond is formed when a male and female elf join their fëar together for the creation of the bundle of fëa energy which is then transferred to the newly forming hröa inside of the female elf. It takes a couple months for the new fëa to fully form into itself, and takes a lot out of both parents. The bond that is left behind is the aftereffect of them forming the fëa energy together. It’s a side effect of the process and the goal, rather then the process itself. Elven society has evolved to view this as the point of no return. They can only have one marriage bond. Hense the problem with Finwe when he wants more kids, but his wife doesn’t want to leave Mandos’s Halls. He has to get permission from the Valor to form a new one, and his former wife is doomed to the halls forever. 
> 
> In the universe I’ve made, before they make that decision to form the little ball of fëa energy, they could still decide that their relationship wasn’t working and go their separate ways and choose another to have children with, even if they had already gone through a public marriage ceremony. It is, however, socially frowned on to do so. Nor does the act of forming the fëa energy bundle guarantee that a child will come from the union. However, even if a child does not result from the effort, the marriage bond will still be formed, as it is a side effect of even attempting to create a ball of fëa energy. Also, while most couples who choose to have children together love each other, there are marriage bonds of convenience and political marriages.
> 
> Fëa bonds, on the other hand, have nothing to do with children. They form naturally when two fëa who are harmonious with each other (or, as Elrond phrased it, sing complementary songs) come into contact a lot. Usually that means sex, but not always. Elves who form marriage bonds sometimes have those bonds deepen into full fëa bonds, although often they do not even realize it has happened, and instead just think their deepening relationship has also strengthened their marriage bond.  
> In this universe, elves can and do have sex outside of the marriage bond. 
> 
> They also have weird views on incest. If there is even a remote possibility of a child being born, I.E, brother and sister, son and mother, uncle and niece, male and female cousins (think Maeglin), then its incest and its bad. That’s why Legolas was so horrified at the prospect, but calmed down after Thranduil stopped being a dick and reassured him that the spell hadn’t changed them that much. It is viewed as odd for elves of very different generations to get together, simply because of different life experiences. So Thranduil and Legolas wide difference in ages would raise a few eyes brows, nor is the fact that they are related be exactly socially acceptable, it kind of falls into an in between gray area that would be evaluated case by case, however, as there can’t be any children it isn’t strictly taboo. And if they were to reveal what had happened to cause the shift in relationship, it would be viewed a tragic situation that they are both making the best of.
> 
> What they both are having to deal with, and will have to deal with is how to adjust their views of each other as strictly father and son.
> 
> Also, if anyone is still reading, in this universe Celeborn is Oropher’s uncle. When Celeborn married Galadrial, Oropher cut of all contact with him. Thranduil, who was also present at the kinslaying, still shares his father’s view that Celeborn betrayed them by marrying the kin of the elves that killed so many of their people and probably Oropher’s own wife (and Thranduil’s mother). 
> 
> Legolas, who was born much later and only knows of what happened intellectually rather than through a horrible first hand experience, is much more interested in getting to know Celeborn, especially as Galadrial had no part in the kinslayings. Thranduil is VERY slowly coming around, mostly because Legolas wants it, although he finds Celeborn’s nosiness insulting.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conversations are had, food is eaten, and Thranduil demonstrates his ability to hold a grudge.

Night fell early across the cloistered valley in which Imladris sat, but it was still several hours after full dark and a dense fog had enveloped the valley that Elrond finally visited their suite once more. Legolas had spent that time between the visits with more eating and yet still more time sleeping. His father had lit a fire in the river-rock fire place that was the main source of heat and light for the main room once night fell, and Thranduil only had a few grumbled comments about how Legolas draped himself across his back to solve the problem of maintaining contact while his father started the fire.

Elrond did not waste any time and instead got straight to business by addressing his father with, “It is much as we thought, I apologize for the lateness, but I did not wish to leave in the middle of it. We have finally managed to decode much of the mechanics behind the spell, the fundamentals at least even if some of the additions tacked onto it are still resisting our attempts to decode it. The spell has set stages that it follows over the course of a week in total. The first stage is very short, comprised solely of locking the spell onto its victim, applying the safeguards nearly in the same instance that the spell is activated, and then ends with the bonding partner touches the parchment as well.”

His father gravely took in the information, the firelight playing across his face as he nodded. “And the other stages?”

“The second stage purposefully sends the spell’s victim into unconsciousness, undoubtedly so that they cannot interfere with the delicate if brutal nature of the second stage, which might inadvertently kill the both of them. Much of the fraying of the fëar takes place in this stage, as well as the start of the entwining of the two fëar. Separation at this point might accidentally cause the spell to rend great tears through the fëar as it attempts to keep them bound. The next stage is more of a resting period before fourth and last stage. A chance to take in sustenance and recover before the difficulty of the last stage.” Elrond peered closely at Legolas, then asked, “Has he entered reverie since awakening, or is he still going into a healing sleep with his eyes shut?”

“Eyes shut still, does that signify anything?” His father answered, and Legolas nodded. Even now he still felt a strange heaviness in his eyes, tempting him to close them, although he resisted that urge. 

“It is likely that the spell was meant for someone significantly older than Legolas is.” He shifted his eyes back to Legolas, “After the 2nd stage you need more sleep someone twice your age would as your fëa attempted to gain back some of its energy stores. The continuation of a need for healing sleep means that it has not been able to gain back all of it.”

His father’s eyes narrowed. “How long until the last stage starts?”

“It should start sometime tomorrow. Two days for the second stage – which relied more on brute strength rather than finesse – and roughly a day and a half for the third. Three and half for the last phase of the spell, where it knocks the both of you unconscious while it finishes fusing of your fëar together into the bond.”

“Both of us?” Legolas asked, frowning slightly in confusion. The spell to this point had been skewed to give the designer all the power while the bond formed. Why would the designer of the spell suddenly deviate from that and also fall unconscious? “Why would the spell be designed to make both of us unconscious? Would it not put the designer in a vulnerable position?”

“Until this point, staying conscious – while painful – would not have impeded the spell. It is likely he wanted make sure that they were sufficiently isolated and secured from any interference,” Elrond answered, with his father nodding in agreement.

“He would have undoubtedly tried to make sure the spell was triggered in a place of his choosing, but he probably would have needed to be able to move around afterward. There was a space of about five hours after I touched the parchment and triggered the second stage that I was still able to move around freely without much pain, as long as I remained in contact with you. It also meant that during this stage, where separation might mean the death of one or both, there was someone awake to make sure the contact was sustained,” his father interjected as one of his hands came up to comb distractedly through Legolas’s hair. He suspected his father was further mussing his already disorderly hair, but Legolas suspected that his obsessively controlled father disliked the fact that he too would soon be subjected to being dragged unconscious by the spell. Playing with Legolas’s hair was simply his version of nervous fidgeting, so Legolas would allow it as it also felt rather nice.

“Exactly. With the fourth stage, the danger of separation is lessened, both of your hröa would already have become accustomed to staying in contact by that point, and there is no threat of death should they accidentally separate. It would only be very painful, at least until it has fused enough of your fëar together to support the bond by itself.”

“How much more danger does the shortened period of time pose to Legolas?”

“The second phase seems to have been the most dangerous. The rate at which fusing taking place of the last stage creates a delicate situation though. Both of you being unconscious for it means that it does not have to work against a conscious resistance to it. Until the last stage the rate at which your fëar are fused together is relatively gradual and easier for the frayed edges of your fëa to accept. With the fourth stage, however, the pace at which this happens is greatly sped up to a point where even a fëa who wished for the bond would have trouble not resisting to the intrusion. The spell with continue to draw energy from Legolas in order to sustain the anchor keeping his fëa in place, however, there is also an added burden with the fourth stage as it draws energy from both your fëar in order speed up and complete the bonding as well as keep the both of you unconscious until it is finished.”

“The spell will draw energy from _both_ of us?” 

Elrond nodded to Legolas’s question, “The weaving of fëar needs contributions from both participants, even the spell cannot circumvent this. Under typical circumstances the energy is siphoned off naturally as the bond slowly forms, however the speed at which the bonding takes place means the fëa cannot radiate enough energy to solidify the fusion in the time it has to do so. The spell is designed to step in and forcibly drain the needed energy from both fëar in order to feed it into the formation of the bond.” 

“How much energy does it need to drain to form the bond? I remember how much energy a marriage bond took to form, and that was over a course of several months of constant effort and focus. _Not_ seven days.” 

“Much of that energy needed for the formation of the marriage bond goes toward the receptacle to receive a brand new fëa – Valar willing – rather than the bond itself. Fëa bonds do not create the receptacle, so in theory should not require the same amount of energy.”

“In _theory_ ,” His father repeated with a frown.

“The formation of a fëa bond has never been observed. I have been privileged to be able to inspect a fully formed once before, however, I was unable to tell how much energy went into the formation of it, nor were the two elves in that case able to tell me much about it as it came upon them so gradually that the bond was nearly fully formed before they noticed.”

Legolas mouth dropped open in surprised disbelief. “They did not _notice_? How could they not notice?”

“The typical formation of a bond between two willing and compatible fëar – even if they are unaware – is gradual enough that unless they are very aware of their fëar, the start of it can slip past notice.”

Legolas still stared at Elrond incredulously, although he allowed that if it was as gradual as Elrond said, perhaps it _could_ slip past the notice of two elves provided that they were _supremely_ dense and unobservant. 

“Have you anything further to tell us beyond that you do not know whether the bond requires a great deal of energy or not?”

“ _Ada!_ ” Legolas exclaimed, aghast at his father’s blatant rudeness. It was so uncharacteristic of him! Obliquely rude, yes, but overtly so?

His father paid his shocked disapproval no mind, but luckily Elrond seemed to ignore the rudeness and answered his question with a brief shake of his head. “I recommend that you _both_ get some sleep in preparation for the next stage to begin.” Elrond paused and tilted his head slightly to the side, eying Thranduil with resigned air before he added, “I also recommend that you both relocate to the healing ward until the bond is fully formed, as Thranduil will also no longer be conscious to ensure the safety of you both.”

“ _Absolutely not!_ ” His father practically growled as the arms around Legolas’s torso gripped him tighter. 

“You would have a private room, and it would allow us to better monitor both of you.”

“Itt would also have all of Imladris chattering on about our own private business. Proficient though your healing staff maybe be, they are also some of the most dreadful gossips this side of the ocean. All they do is yammer on like a herd of vacant minded sheep. So I repeat, _absolutely not._.”

Elrond’s tone took on a steely, no nonsense quality as he frowned, and Legolas felt that he was about to witness a clashing of wills. “Another compromise must be agreed to then, as _I_ am not going to have two unconscious elves left on their own in an isolated suite of rooms. So, your choices are either that you relocate to the healing ward, or someone stays here until you both wake up again.” 

“And who would that be monitoring us? I am not having some stranger in our suite while we are unconscious!” Legolas felt himself shuffled slightly as Thranduil sat up fully, his words disdainful. 

Elrond, however, did not react as Legolas would have expected, his manner turning positively placid he smiled blithely at them both. Was Elrond giving up, or was there something afoot? Based on the suspiciously sly gleam in his eye as Elrond said, “Oh, not to worry. Based on my knowledge of your desire for privacy, I have already arranged for someone who knows both you and your situation to monitor you both while you are unconscious,” Legolas rather suspected latter.

Thranduil raised an eyebrow suspiciously at Elrond and studied him with apprehension. “ _Who_ have you arranged?”

Elrond didn’t answer Thranduil’s question – not directly at least – and instead turned to walk toward the door with a polite nod of his head as he said, “I shall tell him that you wish to stay and be monitored in your suite. He should be here within the next couple of hours.” Elrond glanced at the empty food tray, and the empty pitcher of water beside it. “I shall also have him bring another tray of food and perhaps a pitcher of watered down wine, if that is agreeable.” Without waiting for a reply, Elrond turned and left the suite, glancing back at them once as he closed the door firmly behind him.

Instead of viewing Elrond’s sudden departure as a victory, Thranduil grew more annoyed. Legolas felt it sparking tightly against his fëa, and it made him shiver. Legolas sought to diffuse the tense mood that his father had fallen into, and he made his voice soft as he asked, “Ada? Did you not get what you want? We do not have to move to the healing ward.” Legolas sat up and straddled him, placing his hands on his father and pressed down firmly. 

Thranduil rolled his eyes, “Your naivety does not serve you well in this case, my dear son. _Elrond_ got exactly what _he_ wanted. He suggested the healing ward to make the other option seem more appealing. Undoubtedly whoever Elrond ended up choosing is someone I would find _highly_ objectionable.” Thranduil resisted the pressure on his shoulders that urged him to lay back down just long enough to convey to Legolas that if he did lay down, it was because Thranduil wished to. “Although, I suppose that, even if it _is_ the elf I suspect it is, we at least will not be conscious while having to endure his company for most of it. He can, at least, be trusted to keep our business private and not share it with all of Imladris.”

An easy silence descended upon them as the conversation ended, Thranduil’s sour mood dissipating now that they were once more alone, and he stretched comfortably out on his back with Legolas perched atop him in a position that was fast becoming more familiar to Legolas.

The smooth expanse of pale, unmarked skin of beneath made Legolas’s fingertips itch to touch it, to explore and map out the muscles finely chiseled into his father’s chest. His father’s form was built so differently from himself. Legolas had a slim build of an archer or a scout, whereas Thranduil had the strong, tall form of a close ranged fighter. Thranduil eyes watched him lazily as Legolas tentatively reached out, his hands hovering hesitantly above Thranduil’s bare chest. When he received no protest, Legolas smoothed the tips up thumbs softly up his father’s breastbone, the barest hint of a touch. His father’s skin felt warm, and he watched with trance like fascination as his fingers spread out to lightly brush and explore the flat, strong plains of his father’s torso, though he made sure his fingers didn’t venture anywhere that wasn’t strictly polite. 

The skin occasionally twitched under the soft touch of his fingertips, and – assuming that it was his father’s dislike of being touched acting up – lightened his touch to be feather soft. To Legolas’s confusion, the skin twitched more violently under the even lighter touch. When he went touch the soft skin of his father’s waist, he was surprised when his father practically jerked away from his fingers. His wrists were grabbed, then his hands were pressed more firmly against his father’s skin, Thranduil’s eyebrows furrowed in annoyance as he frowned at Legolas.

Legolas voiced his confusion, “Ada?” The most obvious reason for his father’s twitchiness considered but immediately dismissed. 

He had to reconsider dismissing it at his father’s irritated explanation, “Honestly, Legolas, if you are going to indulge your curiosity, have a little confidence and use firmer touches. Otherwise it makes staying still to allow it near torture.”

“Are you _ticklish_?” Legolas laughed incredulously, and can’t help the impish grin that spred across his face at the thought. Who would have expected that _Thranduil_ , King of Mirkwood, so solidly dignified and in control would be _ticklish_? Legolas flexed his fingers in a threatening manner, grinning from ear to ear. “How ticklish are you?”

The grip on his wrists tightened, and his father voice is a dark purr as he replies, “Before you crow about your discovery and try to take advantage of it, I think you would be wise to consider some facts that you have not.”

As intrigued as he was by the tone his father had taken, Legolas’s discovery was to delicious to be distracted from it. “Oh, and what would those be?” He said, fingers still wiggling with gleeful eagerness.

“First, I am well acquainted with all of _your_ ticklish spots. Two, I am both bigger and stronger than you. Third, you are currently unable to escape me and go hide. Last, I am quite capable of ruthlessly holding you down and tickling you until you cry.”

Legolas stared wide eyed at his father, and swallowed noisily around the embarrassing giggle that tried to sneak out. “ _Oh._ Right. Those are good points.”

“Are you _sure_ you don’t wish to try your luck? It’s been at least since you were slightly taller than waist high since I’ve tickled you at all.”

“No, Adar, you have made your point.” Legolas couldn’t help being disappointed by it. However, as amusing an idea of his father being ticklish was, it wasn’t worth the threat of being held down and tickled until he cried. At least, it wasn’t worth trying until he had some chance of being able to slip away. He could wait.

Legolas was tired anyway. He stifled a yawn, though by his father’s change in demeanor wasn’t missed, as his father’s playful mood melted into seriousness once more. His wrists were released, and one hand moved to clasp behind Legolas’s neck to tug him gently down beside him so that Legolas once more found himself nestled between his father and the back of the lounge, with one of his father’s arms wrapped underneath him. “Sleep, my son. I will wake you when the food arrives.”

“Aren’t you going to sleep?” Legolas asked, remembering Elrond’s words.

“After the food comes. Until then, I shall continue to watch over you.”

Although Legolas would have preferred his father getting some sleep as well, he knew his father would not be budged once he was made up his mind. Legolas instead ducked his head down so that’s his father’s body blocked the flickering light of the fire and draped his arms across his father’s waist. Legolas closed his eyes, finally giving into the urge that had been weighing his eye lids down with a sense of relief. He was nearly asleep when he felt his father’s hands press against his back and side, and his father asked, “May I?” in a soft voice.

Legolas nodded sleepily into Thranduil’s side, and Legolas fell asleep to the soft – yet firm enough not to tickle – comforting touch of his hands soothing their way along Legolas’s back and side.

He awoke once more, a little over an hour later, when Thranduil abruptly stiffened with an aggravated sound. Legolas made an inquisitive noise of his own, opening his eyes so that he could peer sleepily at his father.

“Our food is here,” was the response he got. Thranduil sounded annoyed, so Legolas propped himself up on his hands to see over the back of the lounge at whoever his father was glaring at.

“Lord Celeborn!” Legolas exclaimed in surprise, scrambling to sit up fully. “Are you the one Lord Elrond asked to monitor us for the last stage of the spell?” Legolas couldn’t quite keep the excitement out of his voice, but he had so few opportunities to interact with the only other member of his family this side of ocean. 

“Just Celeborn, please, if you’ll allow me to also address you with that same familiarity. And yes, Elrond asked if I was available.” 

It was his father who objected to this, and he expressed it by sitting up and gathering Legolas possessively to him as he said, “Neither I nor my son wish to be addressed with any sort of familiarity, _Lord_ Celeborn.”

But Legolas wasn’t about to let this opportunity slip by, even if it annoyed his father. “I do not mind being addressed so, Adar. Thank you for taking the time out of your schedule for this, Celeborn, I hope you have not been overly inconvenienced.” It felt odd to address an elf as old as Celeborn without a title of some sort, and Legolas smiled tentatively at him.

Celeborn smiled agreeably back at him and said, “It was no inconvenience at all, when Elrond asked I was more than happy to do so.” He then turned his attention to Thranduil, “I am not going to reiterate our previous arguments over addresses, Thranduil.” Celeborn walked around the lounge they were currently sitting on and placed the tray of food and the pitcher what must be the watered down wine that Elrond had mentioned.

Legolas leaned forward toward the tray, and Thranduil loosened his grip to allow the movement, although he kept glaring at Celeborn as the tall, silver haired elf went to locate a couple of clean wine glasses from the dishware cabinet. Legolas assessed the food that had been brought to them and was slightly disappointed not to see the filled bread rolls that had been with lunch although the meal, but was still pleased with what had been offered to them. The tray held a protein rich assortment of grilled meats – mainly more venison, but also duck this time – as well as grilled vegetables. As the spices and the preparation of the meal was more typical of the Greenwood rather than Imladris, whoever planned the meal must have wanted them to have something familiar.

Even his father looked pleased at the selection, and Legolas gave a small, happy hum as his father took one of the two wine glasses Celeborn held out to them. Legolas hoped that pleasure Thranduil felt over the familiar food would make him agreeable enough to let them eat with relative peace. The happy noise made Thranduil glance sideways at him. 

Whatever he saw in Legolas’s face made him sigh as he reached up with his free hand rub a comforting hand against the back of Legolas’s neck, and he begrudgingly said to Celeborn, “I suppose, given the situation, it would be wise to call a cease fire.”

Celeborn gave them both a fond look, and Legolas had to wonder how close the relationship between Celeborn, Oropher, and the elfling Thranduil before the other elven lord had chosen to marry for Celeborn to still view Thranduil fondly despite the years and the acerbic treatment he had received. “Agreed.” He brought over plates and silverware for the three of them, and, as the eldest, started to fill their plates. 

Thranduil looked, for a second as though he wished to say something about the role Celeborn had assumed was his, but merely settled for frowning slightly. Celeborn _was_ family, they _were_ having what amounted to a family meal together despite the estrangement, and as Celeborn was the eldest by far of the three of them, it was entirely appropriate for him to do so.

Celeborn seemed to realize he had inadvertently caused offense – something that was fairly easy when Thranduil was in this sort of mood – as he hastened to clarify, “I thought, as neither of you able to move independently of each other, that I would plate our food for us.” He held the handle end of the serving utensil out to Thranduil in an unruffled manner, “If you would prefer to do so, however...”

Thranduil leaned back, although he made sure the length of his leg was still pressed against Legolas’s, as he shook his head, “No, you are quite right, it is more logical for you to do so.” He did reach forward to pick up the pitcher of wine, filling both his and Legolas’s glasses before filling Celeborn’s.

Celeborn didn’t mention or even appear to notice his father’s subtle rudeness in serving him last – he should have been served first, either as their guest or as the eldest in the family – although Legolas frowned fiercely as he watched his father do so, and when his father leaned back, Legolas hissed quietly into his father’s ear, making sure that he pitched his voice low enough for Celeborn not to hear, “ _This is your version of a truce? He has been nothing but polite to us, while you have taken every opportunity to offend and be offended. Had I done so, you’d have done something painful to one of my ears.”_

Thranduil frowned back at him, but took his point and said, “I didn’t know Elrond’s cooks new how to make Greenwood dishes.”

“I supplied the recipes to them, and advised them on what they should cook,” Celeborn replied, and Thranduil shot a covert look at Legolas, but when Celeborn added, “Elrond asked me to pick something that would be familiar to you both, so I hoped that this would be an appropriate choice.” Legolas attempted to send a spike of what he hoped would be the equivalent of _I told you so_ through the bond when Celeborn looked away from them for a second to take a drink, and Legolas thought it worked by the way his father jolted slightly in surprise. Celeborn _hadn’t_ been acting as their elder, choosing what they were to eat, but instead had been asked to help Elrond, their host, provide them with something that would be comforting to the both of them.

The rest of their meal passed in relative calm and amicability, and Legolas rejoiced in being able to get to know Celeborn a bit better, even if the situation that allowed it was decidedly odd and as well as difficult. 

It couldn’t last forever though, and although the short nap had refreshed him, Legolas was beginning to feel tired once more. He’d tried to hide it, but both Thranduil and Celeborn had noticed nearly immediately when Legolas had started to have trouble keeping his eyes open.

Then, much to his displeasure, he saw that there _was_ something that Thranduil would work together with Celeborn about – bossing Legolas in what Legolas deemed an exceedingly high handed manner, as though he were an overtired elfling of knee height rather than having been an adult for many centuries.

To Legolas’s displeasure, he found himself being skillfully handled and shuffled off to bed before he’d even been able to speak a word in protest. Celeborn left them alone once they were both once more in bed, leaving behind a single candle on the side table by the bed before shutting the door.

It was difficult to stay annoyed with him, though, when Thranduil also looked tired in the flickering light of the candle, and the heightened physical contact sent a warm fuzziness throughout his body that made him feel languid and relaxed. Legolas was situated once more half on top Thranduil, distractedly tracing different shapes onto Thranduil’s pectoral muscles with his fingers. Was the warmth another side effect of the bond, or simply relief to be in full contact once more?

“Legolas?”

“Hmmm?” Legolas relied idly, preoccupied with the smooth texture of Thranduil’s skin against his own. “I am not tickling you, am I?”

“No, it feels…” Thranduil trailed off, then started again, “No, that was not what I was asking about. Is there something on your mind? I expected you to have already fallen asleep by now.”

Legolas glanced at his father, biting his lower lip. “I was just thinking about the bond. If we are truly going to be unconscious for the rest of it, then it will seem to us as though the bond is completed within half a day rather than days from now. Will the bond feel different once it is completed? I already feel as though I have no privacy, as though you can read every feeling I have.”

“I… I only have my prior experience with a marriage bond, and it seems as though fëa bonds have more depth to them. We will both have to explore what it means to be bonded together, which is perhaps a good thing. More equal footing. And once the bond is complete and the spell is no longer draining your energy, I can teach you to shield as I do.”

_Equal footing_. Legolas felt a spike of pleasure at the thought. “That is… good. Is shielding difficult?”

“At first, it requires concentration, but after a while it becomes second nature… Like when you were first learning your bow. Learning your form took effort at first, but now you do not have to think about it at all. Shielding is a skill like any other.”

“Ah. It is a lot to take in, Ada. It feels like just yesterday that we were preparing for council meeting, and then wake up today to find myself bonded. Or, at least, in the process of being bonded.”

“It is a lot to deal with. You have done well keeping a level head, my son, considering the situation we are in.” Thranduil combed through Legolas’s hair, gathering the messy blond strands and starting to twist them into a loose braid. “But you are not alone. And I will do everything I can to make the transition as easy as I can for you.”

Legolas flushed as one of their earlier conversations – about the designer’s likely motivations – flashed through his mind. He squirmed slightly, a mixture of uneasy embarrassment tingling through him. “Ada, I have not…” He trailed off, and waved his hand as if to encompass everything that he meant, “Even with elves my own age, and you implied certain – some very unelvish motivations and desires. What if-” Legolas broke off, swallowing and he looked down, face pink and ears red as he fidgeted.

Legolas felt Thranduil draw him closer so that he could hug him fiercely, smoothing a hand down his hair and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I do not know if the spell has any surprises in store for us. I _do_ know that you are the most important element of my life, and that I will do anything in my power to protect you. We will work together and deal _together_ with anything that is thrown at us.”

Silence fell between them, although it was a long while before either of them got any sleep, but when they did finally fall asleep wrapped up tightly in each other’s arms, it was nearly four days before they woke up once more.

When Thranduil and Legolas did wake up, the bonding process was completed.


	7. Chapter 7

For all the apprehension and theorizing that preceded the final stage of the spell, the end was fairly anti-climatic. Without waking from their slumber, Thranduil and Legolas entered a state not unlike hibernation, which allowed the spell to safely divert the energy that typically went to maintain the hröa, even in sleep. It was while the pair of elves were in this numbed, senseless state that the spell finished weaving and fusing the fëar together into a fully fledged fëa bond.

They awoke at the same time. Light streamed in through the open windows of his father’s room, the bright midday sun a stark difference to the darkness that had enveloped them when they had fallen asleep.

Not that Legolas had time to notice the splendor of the valley upon awakening, as consciousness was accompanied with a complete and total lack of any barriers whatsoever between his father and himself. Legolas reeled and felt his lungs freeze under the mental weight of everything that was _Thranduil_ for several long heart beats, then felt visceral sensation of walls slamming down abruptly after a brief flash of recognition. 

They were _two_ , but– not. Not separate. Even with his father’s shields fully raised and reinforced, Legolas could feel the bright hum of him through the bond, muted slightly the shields, but still very much present. Legolas strained to keep from hyperventilating once his lungs started working again and he remembered to _breathe_.

It – he – felt _beautiful_. Mesmerizing. Like a flock of swallows thousands strong all moving flawlessly in unison through the air in an intricate dance.

Legolas rolled in place to face his father and drew up to kneel beside him, making sure to maintain contact with the other elf, just in case. Based on the way he could _feel_ Thranduil despite the strength of his father’s shielding and how raw and sensitive his fëa felt, the bond must have been completed. 

Thranduil stared silently at him, and Legolas blinked back at him, feeling oddly shy and self-conscious. Did Thanduil find _him_ as captivating as Legolas found his father, or was his fëa still too young to have that effect? 

His father’s voice sounded slightly scratchy – dry – as he said, “ _Legolas_ ,” and the emotions that curled around him through the bond as his father said his name made him tremble. Intellectually knowing that his father was rather possessive of his only son was quite a different experience to being able to feel that, to his father, his name had the meaning as the word _**mine**_.

His own mouth felt dry, and Legolas had to swallow a few times in order to finally get enough moisture in his mouth to say, “Ada?” and Legolas’s voice sounded surprisingly hoarse. 

They _had_ been without water for several days while the spell completed the bond. Surely someone would have left something for them to drink upon awaking.

Legolas looked toward the small table beside their – his father’s – bed and was pleased to find a pitcher full of what looked to be orange juice sitting it, along with two wooden cups. Less pleasing was the distance between the distance between him and the pitcher. Should he try to test whether they could separate without pain, or just try to reach it while keeping in contact? After a few indecisive moments, he decided testing could wait until Elrond was present, and Legolas pressed his bare foot to his father’s side and crawled the several feet over to the table, extending his leg to keep his foot pressed up to Thranduil’s side.

What he hadn’t accounted for was Thranduil’s propensity for never letting things rest – as well as his distaste for having feet pressed against him evidently – and Legolas felt a hand wrap around his ankle just before Thranduil shifted away from him.

Legolas looked back apprehensively at his father, who appeared to be concentrating intently on both Legolas and ankle he held, eyebrows furrowing in thought. After several moments, Legolas’s anxiety grew when his father nodded to himself, and he tried to curtail his father’s little experiment. “ _Ada_! I really think we should wait until Lord Elrond has a chance to-” Legolas broke off when his ankle was released, cringing and curling toward his father in remembrance of the pain that had accompanied their last separation, and he prepared to cry out in – 

Legolas blinked.

Ah. 

No pain. 

No contact. No _pain_.

Oh, _thank the blessed Valar!_

Legolas dropped to his side in relief, a half hysterical, half relieved laugh tumbling from his lips as he heard his father’s dry – in both meanings of the word – tones asking him to, “Pass over a cup, if you would, provided that you are finished trying to contort yourself into odd positions.”

Relief was making him positively giddy, the looming fear he had felt completely erased. Not only could they separate themselves without pain, but the bond receded to a less distracting level once they were no longer touching.

Legolas was too distracted analyzing the differences in the bond to pay much heed to his father’s request. He could still feel the bond clearly, still feel it thrumming softly inside his head and against his fëa, but the moment Thranduil had released his ankle the persistent hum of his father emotions and energy inside his head eased gently off into the background. 

“Legolas. _The orange juice_.” 

He stretched his foot out, touching his father experimentally with his toes, and Thranduil’s emotions thrummed eagerly toward him through the bond. 

He drew his foot back. The bond leveled off once more, humming softly. Legolas repeated the process several times, with the same results. 

Legolas grinned widely in relief. This was manageable. He could still make out some of what Thranduil was feeling when they were not touching, but it was more like a vague, comforting presence rather than the heady mixture of emotion and _Thranduil_ that he perceived through the bond while touching. Compared to some of the things Legolas had imagined since he’d found out what had happened, such as having to be in physical contact with his father forever or loosing his sense of self, _this_ was so much better than what he’d expected, so much more then he had even hoped for. True, his fëa was sore – and not only in the section that held the newly formed bond, which was a little odd – but that wouldn’t last and was easily ignored until it did.

_No_ nasty surprises from the designer, _no_ looming nightmare of the unknown, just a neat little bond that made his usually taciturn father seem like an open book. Legolas couldn’t see what the downside of the bond was, aside from the pain that had accompanied its formation.

There were too many emotions roaring through him, too much _not_ to express it some sort of way despite his inability to find the words to do so. Instead, he curled his legs under himself and _launched_ himself at Thranduil with exuberance, landing hard on top of his father and making them both bounce on the bed at the impact as well as knocking the breath out of his father. Legolas pressed himself tightly against his father, squeezing him fiercely while laughing with gleeful relief as he tried not to giggle over the disgruntled look on Thranduil’s face.

The bond thrummed strongly with the mixture of his father’s disgruntled surprise at suddenly being jumped upon, as well as mixture of curiosity, relief, and a cautious happiness edged with concern, and then, trailing at the end of it all, annoyance.

Too bad the bond couldn’t tell him the source of the emotions, the _why_ behind the emotions, but Legolas could make guesses as to the reasoning behind them and undoubtedly the accuracy of his guesses would increase with experience.

The reason for his father’s annoyance was immediately made clear by his father saying, “Ah, _Lord_ Celeborn, I was beginning to wonder if we were alone in the suite. Would you be so kind as to retrieve orange juice for us? Legolas appears to have had a momentarily taken leave of his senses.” 

Legolas turned slightly, saw Celeborn, and despite a little embarrassment over the possibility of Celeborn having seen him jump on top of his father, Legolas was too giddy still for it to matter much and smiled at him. At his smile, Celeborn – who has tensed slightly and grown concerned at Thranduil’s words – relaxed at the relieved smile Legolas sent his way. Legolas turned back and pressed his face into Thranduil’s chest, the urge to bite down on the skin underneath him in retaliation strong, but Legolas resisted. His father would probably take it as a dare to bite him back despite Celeborn’s presence.

Celeborn filled the small cups with juice and handed it to them both, with a grateful look from Legolas, and took the cups back once they were drained. “I am sure Legolas will return to his senses relatively soon. In the mean time, I shall go inform Elrond that you’ve both awoken.” Celeborn patted Legolas’s lightly on the shoulder, and made as if to do the same to Thranduil before he thought better of it. Instead, he simply patted Legolas once more on the shoulder and said, “I am glad to see you in better spirits, Legolas,” before he turned and left the room.

Legolas waited and listened for the click of the front door to their suite of rooms before turning to his father with a gleeful smile. “You know, Ada, your barbed remarks work a lot better when I can’t feel your own relief and happiness for myself.”

Thranduil practically jerked underneath him, muscles tensing, and Legolas felt an abrupt flood of surprise and uneasiness from his father. His father’s face was a careful mask as he tersely said, “You can still feel my emotions?”

Legolas nodded, confused at his father’s reaction. Why would his father be so surprised over it? Was that not part of the point for having bonds? 

Then he felt Thranduil building up his shields even more before his father asked, “How about now?”

Head tilted slightly, Legolas shook his head and replied, “Still the same. Past a certain point it felt more like you were fortifying walls around the both of us, rather than just yourself.”

Thranduil let out string of angry sounding expletives that disparaged whoever the designer of the spell was, his parentage, and the relationship the designer must have had with his horse. The last one sounded quite painful, and Legolas wasn’t quite sure it was even anatomically possible, although Legolas kept that thought to himself and tried not to picture it in his head.

“Am I not suppose to be able to feel you through the shielding?” Legolas asked instead.

“ _No_ , not to the extent you are describing,” Thranduil said before pausing inconsideration, then allowed, “Although it is possible that it is something normal for fëa bonds. It is not normal for marriage bonds, that at least I know.”

Legolas bit his lip, frowned, then said, “Is it so very bad that shields do not block the bond all the way? I do not think it such an imposition. And when we are not in contact, it is much less noticeable. I know you like your privacy… but surely it is not so bad as you are imagining.”

His father’s hand caressed the side of his face with a sigh, “It is not _only_ my privacy I am worried about, although it is part of it. You are young and have many experiences ahead of you that should not be influenced by what I am feeling at the time. You need to have the opportunity to form your own opinions and figure out how you feel about different things, without my own feelings influencing yours. I do not wish to even inadvertently influence your feelings by exposing mine to you through the bond. It would be a base abuse of the bond and of you.” Thranduil paused then added, “I may try to influence you in other ways, but never by trying to superimpose my own emotions over yours, or by using the bond to try to do so.”

“You would not do that.” Legolas was sure of that, and he didn’t need to feel his father’s disgust and apprehension over the very idea to know that.

“I would not have to _do_ anything, I am not consciously pushing them at you right now, and yet you feel them just the same.” 

“Oh.” Legolas frowned, still not wanting to loose this easy method of incite into know what his father was feeling. “Isn’t there some middle ground?” Legolas said plaintively.

“Hopefully once you learn shielding, it will also help shield my emotions from you. After that, we can can establish some ground rules,” Thranduil said and Legolas had the strong feeling that when while his father had said ‘we’ he really just meant himself.

Any further conversation was interrupted by Celeborn returning quickly with Elrond, who had evidently having been waiting for notification of their awakening.

“Ah, Thranduil, Legolas, it is good to see that you are both finally awake.”

Thranduil raised an eyebrow, “Finally? Were we unconscious longer than anticipated?”

Shaking his head, Elrond said, “No, not long enough to be worrisome, or longer than our estimates. Even still, it is good that you have both awoken. How are you both feeling?”

“Relieved,” Legolas piped up as he pulled himself into a sitting position. “We don’t even have to be touching.” He demonstrated their new found ability with a grin. 

Legolas bit his lip, indeterminate as to how much he wanted to reveal, but his father saved him from the trouble as he said, “Legolas is still able to feel my emotions while I am shielding, is this normal?”

Elrond nodded. “Fëa bonds are much stronger than marriage bonds. In the marriage bond, shielding is able to completely block out the bond, whereas not only is it strong, in a fëa bond the connection penetrates deeper. Both of you shielding at the same time _will_ greatly minimize unconscious transference of emotion, but any conscious use of the bond will overwhelm any shields you place up, regardless of their strength.”

His father felt relieved at this, “Then we shall begin working on Legolas’s skills with shielding as soon as Legolas is well enough.”

Legolas frowned. Even though he didn’t wish to end the light, steady flow of the bond, Legolas felt that he had to argue that he was quite well enough as he was now. Doing otherwise would just make him appear as though he was _weak_ and that he had to be coddled and cosseted like a little elfling.

Which he was _not_. 

Not only that, it would be good if he could choose to shield certain things from his father and be able to have some privacy again – Thranduil wasn’t the only one who wished for privacy, although it was not as important to Legolas as it was to his father. “If shielding is something I must learn, I would rather begin now. I feel well enough, and I already am familiar with the basic theory of it, although I have never been in a position where I actually had to implement it.” Abruptly, Legolas found himself on the receiving end of three disapproving frowns. “What?”

His father was the one to reply, “When you are well enough to travel, then you can learn on the way back to the Greenwood.”

“I am well enough _now_.” The mentioning of the Greenwood, of _home_ and the trees made him long for the familiarity of it. As nice as Imladris was, it certainly didn’t have the same tall, ancient trees the Greenwood had in abundance, nor the same ambiance. “How long until we travel back home?” He directed the question at his father. 

At this, Elrond and Celeborn’s frown deepened, although his father’s was tempered by his own longing to return home. That longing did not change the answer though, and his father replied, “When you have regained your energy.”

Despite the arguments Legolas presented in order to convince them, their replies never changed, and Legolas had to settle for simply _waiting_ and _resting_ , which put him in a foul mood for the rest of the visit, and ill disposed toward _elder_ elves who felt it their place to impose their will onto fully grown elves who were _centuries_ past reaching their majority. 

Legolas maintained a politely cool manner toward the elves, not unlike the way Thranduil dealt with some of his more trying courtiers. His father was undoubtedly catching a mental earful of just how _displeased_ Legolas was over being treated as though he were incapable of judging his own limits, but that fit Legolas’s mood. If his father wished him to wait, Thranduil could deal with being inundated with Legolas’s foul mood. He thought it a rather apt retaliation, in fact.

Thranduil could find no fault in his behavior, and he couldn’t very well complain about Legolas being in a foul mood when Legolas did not let it effect his behavior. 

Legolas thought he might have pushed to far when, having already asked a variety of invasive questions, Elrond wished to examine the bond to make sure it their fëa were healing as they should, and Legolas refused. 

Not in an overtly _rude_ way, but rather in a way that subtly implied that as he already had one overbearing elf running amok in his head, he did not need another one. 

Instead of snapping back at him in way that would have made Legolas feel vindicated, Elrond simply looked at him sadly with a perceptive understanding tinged with guilt at this having happened to Legolas while as a guest in his house. The spike of hurt, quickly buried underneath a sort of gentle understanding, from the bond made him look over at his father, but no sign of that hurt surfaced on the other elf’s face. The final elf in the room he had to look at, Celeborn, had solemnly compassionate expression on his face and was just as nonjudgmental as the other two elves.

Meeting compassion and understanding rather than the angry responses Legolas had been aiming to rail against drained the energy that had been fueling his ire. In its wake it left a sort of futile resignation that had his shoulders drooping slightly in shame over his resentful behavior. Even if he disagreed with their high handed manner, they did not deserve his scorn, especially not his father who was in the same situation and – while Thranduil hadn’t always reacted in the best manner – had tried his best to make the situation as comfortable as possible and done his best to support Legolas. And both Celeborn and Elrond had gone out of their way to support the both of them, despite the sometimes strained relationship between the Greenwood and Imladris, and the obvious estrangement between Celeborn and his father.

The only thing to do was apologize and acquiesce. Legolas bowed his head slightly, focusing his eyes on the intricately woven designs on the bed covering, letting his loose hair fall forward to hide his face slightly as he said, “My apologies, I should not have phrased my refusal in such a manner. Lord Elrond, do what you feel is best and please accept my apologies for my words.”

Legolas was not expecting a spike in the level of concern he was picking up from Thranduil, and was surprised to find that concern visible not only on his father’s face, but also in the expression of the other two elves. Legolas reviewed his apology in his head, but could find nothing that would explain such sudden widespread concern.

Even more surprising was the light weight of his father’s hand on the back of his neck, hidden mostly from the sight of the other elves in the room. Legolas blinked in confusion at the polite yet firm tone his father took as he said, “Legolas and I will discuss the topics that have been brought up. Lord Elrond, I would be grateful if you would have midday meal sent to the suite once more, as well as further meals. I intend to take the traditional option of Seclusion for at least a couple of days, even if the traditional month is not an option at this time. We can revisit the matter evaluating the bond at the end if you are still feeling concerned.”

Both Elrond and Celeborn barely paused before bowing to the both of them, and Legolas goggled at the sight. Even more surprising was the way Celeborn stepped forward and said, “Our apologies for intruding upon you at this time. Our best wishes for your health and happiness.” They then exited from the room, and the click of the front door soon followed.

Seclusion was for elves newly bonded together, and while it was typically associated with a marriage bond, Legolas supposed that their newly formed fëa bond still fit the reasons Seclusion is typically invoked. Undoubtedly his father’s concern had spurred him into invoking it, and their own concern had convinced Celeborn and Elrond for the need of it. Legolas wasn’t sure what had caused that concern though. 

Legolas cringed as he recalled the words he had spoken to Elrond and the hurt that soon followed before his father had buried it beyond even the bond’s reach. He wrung his hands together, regretting his words again, “Adar, what I said earlier… I did not mean it in the way it sounded,” Legolas fretted, fidgeting under the hand on the back of his neck, then attempted to look behind him at his father. The hand on the back of his neck tightened, forestalling his attempt. A single finger tapped lightly on the back of his head, and Legolas obediently followed the direction and relaxed the muscles in his neck so that his head tipped forward. The on his neck followed the movement, sliding up his neck to slide through his hair caress the back of his head. The bond thrummed with his father’s touch, and Legolas mustered up the energy to focus on sorting out the complicated mixture of information that the bond was sending to him. The bond didn’t simply send emotion, but instead was comprised of multiple facets of the bond that were confusing in their complexity. Not _just_ emotions, although it certainly was a large part of it, but also an odd sort of energy that felt similar to how his father’s fëa had felt when he’d had it wrapped around him. His father didn’t feel the least bit angry, but the shame over what Legolas had said kept him from being able to relax under his father’s hand as he usually did. His father was feeling a mixture of concern and understanding, and, since the other elves had left, a growing sense of certainty. What had his father concerned he didn’t know, as that hadn’t appeared until Legolas had apologized, nor did could he even guess at what his father thought he understood. 

At least the certainty was fairly easy enough to guess at. Whatever may had caused him to decide that they needed at least a short period of Seclusion, Thranduil was growing more certain that it was the right decision to have made. 

“No, despite your less then pleasant manner of deliverance, you were quite just in calling us on our overbearing behavior with you at that time. I should not have permitted those questions to be discussed, not with myself _and_ two other elven lords in attendance, no matter well meaning they may be. We are simply too used to getting our own way in things. While the decision of when to leave for the Greenwood is mine, the decision of when you have recovered enough to spend the energy to practice shielding lies primarily with yourself, as you are neither underage or an idiot. While I would caution you to at least wait until tomorrow, whenever you feel well enough to begin I will work with you on it.”

A warmth spread through his chest, and he ducked his head further as he whispered, “Thank you, Adar,” softly, and Legolas recalled his father words from before, about working as a _team_. But that hadn’t been what Legolas had been apologizing about. The spark of hurt he’d felt when he’d snapped at Elrond hadn’t been about being called overbearing. Legolas had called him that before, and all Thranduil had done was grin smugly at him. No it had been the inference that Legolas regretted that it was _Thranduil_ he’d ended up being bonded to. Legolas could let that stay between them. “That wasn’t what I was referring to, although I am relieved to hear it.” Legolas fidgeted once more, and the hand on the back of his head and neck massaged in what was probably meant to be a comforting manner, but just made Legolas feel even more guilty. Had Legolas told his father before? He’d thought he’d said it before, but perhaps it could do with repeating, even if he had. “I do not regret that it was you, Ada, who activated the second part of the spell that day. When I think of the other possibilities of the elves who _could_ have done so, I shudder to think of being in this situation with them.”

Legolas felt a pulse of possessive affection from the bond, and Thranduil’s hand tightened lightly before it released him. Legolas missed the touch immediately, missed its familiarity. Before this situation with the spell, his father’s hand on the back of his neck or head had been the primary expression of physical affection between them, usually when Thranduil was pleased with him although he’d also use a slightly firmer grip if he felt Legolas needed correction of some sort. It had been proof of the esteem his father had for him – even in correction – as Legolas rarely if ever seen him reach out to touch someone just for the sake of touching them. Even if Thranduil continued to allow the greater amounts of physical affection that Legolas had just started to get used to, he would have missed having Thranduil come up and rest his hand on the back of Legolas’s neck just because he could if it no longer happened. 

The grin on Legolas’s face froze as it occurred to him that the reintroduction of the touch to the back of his neck could be his father’s subtle way of informing him that he wished to return to the way it had been before. Legolas had _thought_ … His father had made it seem that they would not be returning to it, but perhaps he had misunderstood. Legolas _had_ been the only to instigate close contact since awakening. _And_ Thranduil had been eager to test whether the spell still required them to be in physical contact.

Suspiciously so, now that Legolas thought about it.

Legolas twitched in surprise and yelped when strong, familiar arms wrapped around his torso and suddenly yanked him backward to squeeze him tightly against his father’s firm chest for several seconds before releasing him and propelling him gently forward once more. Legolas turned so he could stare and blink at his father in confusion.

He received a sardonic expression. “Honestly, Legolas, and you say _I_ worry too much. Stop worrying so needlessly. If you have a question, or wish for something, for the Valar’s sake, just _ask_ in stead of devolving into a little bundle of anxious energy.” Legolas frowned at the description, but his father continued before he could comment on it. “ _Yes_ , Legolas, we will be touching more often. If you wish for more, _ask_ or even just instigate it, provided we are not in public.”

Through the bond, Legolas could feel his father’s exasperated yet affectionate sincerity, with no trace of reluctance or distaste, and Legolas nodded slowly in return. Thranduil was, evidently, much better at following Legolas’s emotional state and guessing the reasons behind them than Legolas was at guessing Thranduil’s. “I can do that,” Legolas said softly, gazing up at his father and focused on the affection for his father that he was feeling right now, hoping it would be communicated clearly through the bond.

Legolas knew it was a success when Thranduil’s expression softened, and he reached out to caress Legolas’s cheek and trace up and around the point of one ear before finally came to rest behind his neck in the customary placement, although being face to face as he was held so was a new experience. Legolas gasped, eyes widening as he was suddenly inundated with a flood of affection from the bond, causing Legolas to grin shyly at the other elf after recovering from the surprise.

“That’s what it feels like when you focus on an emotion. _Now_ ,” Thranduil withdrew and stepped back with one finally affection squeeze, “I think it’s time you take advantage of the large stone in the bathing room.”

Legolas nodded with some fervor. A week was _far_ too long, even for an elf that had been sleeping for most of it. “Will you be join me, or do you have business you need to get done?”

Thranduil stared at him for a full ten seconds with one of his eye brows raised before he finally shook his head. “No, to both questions. I was able to get work done while you slept, so it should be mostly caught up, even with recent period of inactivity.”

If there was no work to be done, then why wouldn’t Thranduil be joining him? It had been seven days for him as well. “Why ever not then? The tub is quite large enough for five elves. So it should be able to fit the both of us comfortable, even if you are _abnormally_ tall.” Legolas wasn’t sure as to the reasoning for his father’s reluctance. Elves weren’t shy about bathing together, and during hunting trips his father and he would frequently bathe in rivers together. Communal bathing was normal. Relaxing. Legolas frowned at his father. 

“I am not abnormally tall, although it may seem so from _your_ perspective. And as to why, you’ve not been quite yourself since waking, so I think some time alone might help center yourself. Your emotions have been jumping all over the place like kernels of corn on a hot pan. Take you time, I am content to wait until you are finished.

It sounded reasonable, even plausible, but the resigned amusement he was picking up from his father didn’t quite match what his father was saying. However, as there was little he could do, Legolas shrugged, and said, “If you change your mind before I finish, feel free to join me,” as he crawled toward the edge of the bed and stood up. “Oh! If the food comes while I am in there, could you bring me some? I do not wish for it to become cold.” Legolas was surprised when his words drew a rare chuckle from his father. “What?” Legolas said, now even more suspicious. The bond still only felt resigned amusement, tinged this time with… exasperation? 

“Nothing Legolas, go take your bath before I change my mind and lock you out while I take mine.”

Legolas sighed and turned around once more to start for the door. “You, Adar, are decidedly odd.”

“And you, my son, seem willfully determined to remain oblivious. We both have our burdens to bare.”

“Oblivious to _what_?”

“Nothing, Legolas, nothing. I am sure you will figure it out when you are good and ready to.”

_Yes_ , Legolas decided as he entered the bathing room and turned on the taps for the hot water, _his father was decidedly odd._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For me, it makes sense that elves would be used to communal bathing. Hot springs, rivers, and lakes, as well as the difficultly involved with indoor plumbing for the time period makes communal bathing the logical choice for most elves, especially when combined with elves lack of body shyness. For Legolas, communal bathing isn't sexual in the least and hasn't connected the possibly between bath tubs, naked fun, and sex. For him its just about getting clean, relaxing, and non-sexual platonic socializing. Thranduil, who has plenty of experience with sex in bath tubs, is well aware of the fun that a private bath tub shared by two elves - especially two elves who are bonded - can lead to.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the road! Legolas gets himself in trouble, and Thranduil gets a taste of his own medicine.

In the end it was Legolas’s preferences which prevailed. Elrond had originally wanted Legolas to wait at least a week before starting to experiment with shielding, and at least twice that before they even contemplated traveling back to the Greenwood.

The disapproving frown Elrond gave his father when he was informed that they would be leaving merely three days after awakening made Legolas grin smugly, which Elrond missed. Celeborn did catch it but simply sighed at him, evidently well used to the sometimes temperamental moods of Oropher’s line. 

The one concession Thranduil permitted, with reluctance, was to allow Celeborn’s delegation – along with their guards – to travel with them until they reached the boarders of the Greenwood in order to ensure their safety, where they would then turn south toward Lothlorian. 

So it was just after dawn on the third day that Legolas found himself on horseback once more, ensconced between Thranduil and Celeborn, and his father eyed him silently after they had set out. Celeborn too seemed to be keeping a close watch on him, although he filled the silence by drawing Legolas into conversation. Legolas took the opportunity to practice shielding while attempting to carry on a conversation, which was more difficult than Legolas had first assumed it would be.

Both of them shielding at the same time muffled the bond further, but not completely. Thranduil still thrummed inside of his head, but it was a soft and pleasant. The only emotions that made it through both their shields were strong spikes of emotions, such as the one Celeborn caused when he made his fifth attempt at drawing Thranduil into the conversation with less then successful results.

Legolas could only ignore his father’s silent stare for so long, so at a lull in the conversation he turned to Thranduil and asked, “Are you planning on silently watching me until we reach home, or were you planning on saying something at some point?”

Thranduil responded more positively to Legolas’s attempt to draw him into the conversation than he had to Celeborn, but Legolas still felt the slightest hint aggravation through the bond, and his voice sounded cross when he answered, “What would you wish me to say?”

“Why you are both keep watching me like you think I am going to keel over at any moment would be a nice start. I feel fine, and it isn’t as though this is difficult terrain. Good roads, nice weather, we’re going home, and you’re ruining it by eying me like you’re a hunting wolf and I’m the unsuspecting rabbit.”

“We _did_ leave rather sooner than was recommended.”

“ _Rather sooner_? That is an understatement. You both have-” Celeborn cut himself off, abruptly aware of the curious glances they were receiving at the rare sound of Celeborn raising his voice. 

“I feel fine, there is no need to worry! No headache, no strain, and I don’t feel the least bit tired. After practically two days of sleep, I don’t see how I could feel tired.”

Thanduil didn’t look impressed by his attempts to reassure them. “Be that as it may, Legolas, I insist that you tell me _**immediately**_ should you start to feel tired, or if you feel as though something is wrong with the bond. Both of us shielding – even if your shields are still intermittent – means that I may not notice if you start to feel tired. You are _not_ to push yourself, understand? I do not care what we are doing, where we are at, or what is happening, you are to tell me at the soonest possible moment.”

Legolas nodded, a little exasperated at his father’s overprotective behavior, and when Thranduil did not seem satisfied, gave the expected, “Yes, Adar.” 

The roads between Greenwood and Imladris were safe, and they encountered no danger on the road beyond an angry bear with cubs that were easily avoided. The uneventful days of travel allowed Legolas ample time to continue to practice shielding under the watchful eyes of both Thranduil and Celeborn, who seemed to have teamed up once more to make sure that Legolas didn’t overexert himself. Thranduil’s cross mood seemed to dissipate the further they traveled, although whether it was because Legolas wasn’t feeling any overly ill effects, or he had finally resigned himself to traveling with Celeborn, Legolas couldn’t say.

Thranduil appeared to be fully recovered from their experience, and Legolas couldn’t feel even the slightest bit of exhaustion through the bond even when he lowered his shields a bit, which Legolas found unfair and a little vexing. He still seemed to tire easily, and it was with some annoyance that – with the added exertion and distraction of traveling – Legolas discovered that he could only shield for ten to twenty minutes at a time before something either distracted him and broke his concentration, or he ran out of energy. Legolas kept his flagging energy to himself, though. He wasn’t _exactly_ pushing himself, after all. And his Ada was _already_ too overprotective and worried about him, informing him of every little thing would just put him even more on edge.

Under ideal conditions with no distractions and nothing to focus on besides shielding, he’d reached nearly a full hour of continuous shielding, but traveling was a far cry from laying quietly beside his father – not touching as that would make it more difficult to learn to block out, but close all the same – and the combination of trying to do both things at once for longer and longer periods of time was more draining then Legolas would have expected.

They were only a day’s ride from the boarders of the Greenwood when Thranduil and Celeborn, acting in concert from some unspoken agreement, signaled to draw to a stop while urging their own horses forward to block the path of Legolas’s. 

“We are stopping here for a couple of hours.” 

Legolas gave an exasperated sigh but didn’t protest. He was tired, his horse was tired, and he’d be glad even to get an hour of sleep before continuing on. Legolas slid off his horse, leaning against the gelding’s back for a second before he patted the horse lightly on the neck and had the horse follow him to the small stream that cut through the clearing that they had stopped at. 

Celeborn came up behind from behind him, with both his own and Thranduil’s horse placidly following him. “I will make sure that the horses are rubbed down and taken care off.”

Legolas sent the other elf a quirk of a smile, “Ada has you taking care of his horse?” 

“I volunteered so that he could take advantage of the opportunity to get some rest. I offered for you as well, but you didn’t hear as you were too busy trying not to give away how tired you were.” Celeborn sent him a disapproving look. “You’re lucky Thranduil was too tired to notice how badly you were doing toward the end, or else you’d be having words with him right now instead of me.” 

Legolas felt a spark of guilt. “Ada hasn’t felt tired.”

“You’re so tired the only reason you were able to stay on your horse is because your horse is well behaved and we were going slow. I highly doubt you’d be able to tell Thranduil’s exhaustion from your own at this point.” Celeborn stepped closer, and Legolas had to wonder if _looming_ was a family trait that had somehow skipped him. “But at least your father had the sense to signal for a stop when he finally realized that the both of you could use a break, even if he didn’t realize the full extent of how tired you were. You are very good at hiding it, I didn’t even notice until after you failed to answer me.”

“I haven’t been pushing myself, this is just a normal sort of tired. An hour or so and I will be good as new, stop overreacting so much,” Legolas said with a roll of his eyes.

Celeborn didn’t appear impressed or reassured. Quite the opposite, in fact, and he expressed his displeasure with Legolas’s disregard of his own fatigue by grabbing the point of Legolas’s ear between his fingers as he said in an exaggeratedly calm manner, “I don’t think you quite understand how much the spell has taxed you, little _elfling_. I suggest you rethink your approach before you find yourself with more _trouble_ than you know how to deal with.” Celeborn twisted the tip of Legolas’s ear as he said the word _trouble_ , who barely held back a yelp of pain as Celeborn waited a few seconds before releasing the sensitive tip.

Legolas reached up and rubbed at his ear, opening his mouth only to close it once more at Celeborn’s severe look.

“Now _go_ , your father is eying me like he is about to tell his horse to knock me into the stream, and I don’t feel the need for a bath at this point.” Celeborn accompanied his command by propelling him forward in the direction of where his father was resting against a fallen tree.

Legolas’s exhaustion made his temper quick snap, and once he was a safe distance away he softly growled out, “Just because I may take direction from Adar doesn’t mean that I will take it from _you_.” Despite his words, his feet continued taking him toward his father, the tips of his ears turning red when the only response from the older elf was a soft noise of amusement.

His father greeted him without opening his eyes, “Still so fond of him, Legolas?”

Legolas’s reply was just as snide, “I don’t know, Ada, is it possible to be fond of overly bossy elves?”

“I don’t think I appreciate what you are inferring.”

“I’m okay with that,” Legolas said blithely, settling himself down next to Thranduil with a relieved sigh at finally being _still_. He let his eyes unfocus and started drifting toward reverie, when a stray thought startled him out of it with a laugh. “Celeborn told you to go take a _nap_ , didn’t he?” He hummed in amusement.

“He most certainly did _not_.”

“Oh, I am sure he phrased it much more diplomatically, but the meaning was the same, was it not?”

“You’re even more obnoxious when you are tired, go to sleep – and don’t think your conversation just now with Celeborn went unnoticed. However, as he has already spoken to you about it, and we are both tired, I will leave it at that. But it had better _not_ happen again, though, Legolas.”

Legolas nodded, then verbally agreed when he realized that Thranduil wouldn’t be able to see it with his eyes closed. Then, he tried to get some sleep. He really _did_ try. But every time he got close to it, something always jarred him out of it before he could fully drift of. He turned his head to stare at Thranduil. “Ada,” he said softly, “Are you awake?”

Thranduil’s voice was half asleep when he replied, “What, Legolas? Please do not say you cannot sleep.”

Legolas bit his lip, looking around at groups of elves and horses milling around. No one was paying attention to them, and the spot his father had chosen was nicely bracketed by tall grass so that they were secluded from view. Satisfied at the relative privacy, Legolas inched his way over so that he could he could lay lengthwise down on the ground with his head in his father’s lap. “You don’t mind, do you?” Legolas was not quite sure if this would be considered ‘in public’, as, even though they were not behind closed doors, they weren’t in plain sight. And it wasn’t like they were hugging or _cuddling_.

Or did his father consider being used as a pillow worse than either of those?

Thranduil peered down at him, eyebrows raised, a slight frown on his face, his eyes still half glazed in reverie. It was the frown that had Legolas about to sit back up and apologize, when Legolas felt a hand slowly start to comb through his hair. His father’s assent was a slight nod, and through the bond Legolas could feel an underlying discomfort – evidently his father did consider this a little to _public_ for his liking – but that discomfort eased and slowly gave way to a sort of bemused contentment as he combed through Legolas’s hair, as though his father was confused by his own enjoyment of it.

The bond thrummed strongly once more, their proximity and touch making it sing smoothly between them, and Legolas finally found it easy to slip off into reverie.

 

 

They made good time, and it wasn’t long before they were bidding the Lothlorian elves goodbye as the groups separated to head their different ways. Legolas and Celeborn shared a friendly if slightly awkward goodbye, and, despite the other elf’s sometimes dictatorial attitude, he was still sad to see the other elf go. 

He wasn’t sure when the next chance to meet with the other elf would be, as Thranduil had – in the past – flatly refused to even entertain the idea of Legolas visiting Lothlorian for any reason. 

Any hope that Legolas had of his father having had a change of heart since the last time Legolas had suggested it were dashed by the frosty look Thranduil gave Celeborn when the latter attempted to give him a parting hug as well. 

Legolas gave him an apologetic look as his father urged his horse forward and away. They had a moment of privacy, and as his own sense of honor would not allow him to leave it at that, he ventured to say, “Thank you, Celeborn, for all your help. It was appreciated, even if… Well. It was appreciated.”

It was a surprise when Celeborn simply nodded. “Do not worry, Legolas, I am quite used by being snubbed by Thranduil, and it has been more than rewarding enough to have a chance to become more acquainted with you. And, you were not present at our last meeting, so you are unable to compare the difference between this meeting and our last one, Thranduil has been positively friendly in comparison. Now,” Celeborn added with a glance behind Legolas, “I think you had better go join your father before he think I am attempting to hold you captive.”

Legolas turned and started when he saw his father eying the both of them frostily, some twenty yards from them surrounded by guards who looked extremely interested in what was happening.  
With a quick nod to Celeborn, Legolas made sure the expression on his face was serenely calm, even though he could feel his father’s biting annoyance through the bond, as well as the jealous possessiveness that nipped at the edges of the bond. Legolas – who had lowered his shields since their last stop – raised them once more to block out the bad mood brewing inside of Thranduil. His father nodded shortly to him when Legolas took his place at his side, but didn’t say a word to him, only whirled his horse around with the command to move out. The fast pace Thranduil set for them made talking arduous, even had Legolas been willing to test his father’s mood, and Legolas settled himself in for a frosty, if shorter than expected, ride. 

 

 

They had to rest their horses one more time before they reached home, but luckily by that time his father had defrosted enough to interact with Legolas once more, although Legolas wasn’t sure his current situation was any improvement over the frosty silence he’d been treated with. His father loomed over him, crowding Legolas against his horse as he did so and herding both the horse and himself into the thicker stand of trees and brush to block them from the view of the guards once more.

The fast pace – combined with Legolas’s efforts to block out Thranduil’s bad mood for _hours_ – had left him completely exhausted with a bit of a head ache, and while Legolas sometimes protested when his father used his greater height and frame to intimidate him, Legolas was simply too tired to care, much less protest. Instead, Legolas sleepily allowed himself to be shuffled forward against his horse and pressed his face into the sweaty hide with relief when Thranduil deemed them far enough in and eased up.

The relief was short lived. Legolas felt a firm hand grip the back of his neck, twisting in his hair as it tugged his head to the side, the rough handling startling a noise from him that Legolas would later – if asked – staunchly deny was a whimper.

The noise made Thranduil pause, his head tilting slightly as he regarded Legolas’s form, and from the corner of his eye, Legolas saw him blink and shake his head as though waking from a trance. The hand in his hair softened before it slid down to shoulder, and Legolas turned around at its urging.

Thranduil took hold of Legolas’s chin, tilting his face upward so he could examine his face, and what he saw made him frown in concern and darken slightly. “Lower you shields.” His father’s voice was soft, despite an underlying hardness, and Legolas had the sneaking suspicion that he may have missteped by deciding to keep his ever growing exhaustion from Thranduil _again_ , even if Thranduil had already been in a bad mood. Legolas hesitated in lowering them, only to have his father snap out, “ _Lower them_ , Legolas,” and his father’s softly dangerous tones adequately conveyed his displeasure despite their lack of volume. Legolas let his shields fall. “Keep them lowered. If I can’t trust that you will inform me when something is wrong, then I will have to rely on the bond to do so. Until we are back at home, you are to keep them lowered. No practicing. Stay here while I get someone to take care of the horses.” 

To Legolas’s surprise, anger wasn’t his father’s primary emotion, but Legolas thought he would have preferred anger over _disappointment_. Legolas couldn’t help but wilt a little in the face of it. Thranduil seemed to return in no time at all, sans horses. 

“You’re disappointed, Ada?” Maybe he was interpreting what he was feeling from the bond wrong.

“You _lied_ to me. And do not try to obfuscate the point,” His father cut him off when he opened his mouth to do just that, “You agreed to tell me should you start to feel tired, and once you did start to feel tired, you _deliberately_ hid it from me, not just once but _twice_!”

Legolas hunched down in on himself, shame bubbling up.

“I don’t know what to do with you, Legolas. I acceded to your wish to return home earlier than what was recommended, as you presented a valid argument for doing so. Then you turn around and disregard the stipulations I attached to leaving early, thereby endangering yourself.”

“I’m _sorry_ , Ada,” Legolas apologized, voice catching as he tried to convey how sincere he was. 

Thranduil sighed, and drew Legolas into his arms. “Do not despair so, Legolas, it is not fully your fault. I should not have introduced such a hasty pace, nor should I have allowed my own mood to linger so on such emotions with the bond being so strong and with you being so new to shielding. Not when you had already shown yourself to be reluctant to admit to being tired.” Legolas felt a fresh burst of shame at his father’s last sentence, and felt the press of his father’s lips again the top of his head in response. “I should not have expected you to feel secure enough to do when I was already in a such a mood, although I do hope you did not think I would have treated you ill because of it.” Legolas denied having thought that, although his actual reason for doing so was not much better. When prodded to do so, he stated the reason behind his reluctance. Thranduil became slightly pensive and hugged Legolas closer to himself. “Ah. Are my foul moods, as you put it, so intimidating that you find it difficult risk interrupting me?”

Legolas hastened to reassure his father, “No, it wasn’t so much that it was intimidating, but rather that we were so close to home that I thought we could make it home before I needed a longer period of rest once more. I thought I could rest when the horses rested, and that would be enough. By the time I realized it wasn’t… well, I already felt committed.”

Thranduil drew him back slightly so he could study Legolas’s face.

“Please do not be mad at me, I did not mean to disappoint you!” Legolas said, unable to hold silent under the evaluative gaze.

Thranduil sighed, shifting his eyes from Legolas onto their surroundings, and drew them both toward the small hollow of a tree that would offer them cover. Legolas followed the urging of his father’s hands, and ended up curled up in Thranduil’s lap, pressed against his father’s chest and his head tucked under Thranduil’s chin. Strong arms wrapped firmly around him, settling him firmly in place. 

The positioning made him tense, as it somehow felt different to Legolas, although how he could not say. Thranduil did not comment on it, nor did he release Legolas. Instead, he continued their conversation as though there had not been an interruption in it. “I am not one for false platitudes, nor will I start giving them to you now. I will tell you though, that while I do not agree with why you did it, I can understand it. Not only does your youth mean that you have not fully developed the ability to recognize your own limits are, but I also think Celeborn was right, loathe though I am to admit it. You still have not realized the upheaval the bond has caused both your fëa and your hröa, and you have taken risks that you would not have had there been a physical representation of the trauma. All you see it as right now is a shortcut to knowing my emotions” Thranduil had been running his hands slowly against the edge of his spine, coaxing Legolas to relax in his hold, and Legolas slowly responded by relaxing in slow increments. “And while I do recognize the part I have played in it, I will now make sure that you do not push yourself or impede your fëa’s ability to fully recover from the spell and the ensuing bond.”

“Why does it feel as though you have recovered so much easier than myself?”

“Greater age does usually denote a greater store of energy, as well as the fact that my fëa has already experienced a bond before. I already have experience in adjusting to one, so that experience has translated into being able to recover more efficiently from it. You, however, are having to deal with a greater percentage of your energy having been drained, as well as having your fëa connected to another’s for the first time. It a bit shocking for fëar, even when it has not been forced to accept it. It is not surprising that yours is taking more time to recover fully, as it had little time to prepare, and it was a bond that was forced.”

“Has _your_ fëa recovered?”

“Indeed. Yours will recover soon enough though, provided you do not continue to stress it. Now, enough talk, go to sleep. We will be staying here for at least six hours, which should provide you with enough rest to make it back home without falling asleep on your horse.”

“Six hours?! I don’t need so much, and the horses are not that taxed, half that would be more than enough.”

“If you keep complaining, I will insist that ride with me.”

Legolas quieted at the threat, paling slightly at the thought of having to ride with his father like an elfling to small to ride on his own in front of the other elves, and silently acquiesced to six full hours of rest. And, as he felt the telltale signs of his hröa wishing to fall into a healing sleep once more rather than simple reverie, he decided to warn his father rather than letting him discover it on his own, “I- My eyes wish to close, so I will probably be sleeping with my eyes shut.”

Legolas felt a spike of concerned aggravation through the bond, but all his father said was, “Ah. Then you should do so, rather than try to fight it. Thank you for warning me.”

Eyes already closed, Legolas nodded his head sleepily before falling into a deep sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next stop, Greenwood! Finally.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Catarrhini my new beta for all the help with this chapter!

The sight of the first small group of flets high up in the trees filled Legolas with joy, and he fidgeted excitedly, making his horse bump up against his father’s as the gelding responded to the shift in his weight.

The first bump went ignored by Thranduil, and – in his excitement at being less than an hours ride from home – Legolas gave up any pretense of subtlety as he shifted again so that his knee knocked against his father’s. “Ada! Can we not take to the trees? We can race back!”

“I think not.”

Legolas’s face fell at Thranduil’s flat denial and at the amusement he could feel through the bond. Legolas wasn’t going to give up though. “Are you not glad to be back as well?”

“I am.” Thranduil steadfastly kept his gaze on the road in front of them, despite the undoubtedly obnoxious way Legolas kept knocking their legs together.

“Then why do you not wish to race back? Our horses may be too tired to do so, nor would I ask it of them after they have traveled all this way, but by taking to the trees we could get back that much faster! And to be in familiar trees once more, leaping from branch to branch - how could you not wish to?”

Thranduil finally glanced his way, dubiously eying Legolas’s form before his eyes traveled back up to meet his gaze. “Because I would rather not have to deal with a trip to the healing ward so soon upon our arrival when you fall out of a tree.”

“I have not fallen from a tree since I was thirty-five!” Legolas retorted, back straightening in offense.

“Then let us not break your streak of triumph over gravity by breaking it now – along with a couple of your bones.” His father gave him a quirk of smile before he continued, “Save your tree running for when I do not have to worry about a stray emotion distracting you or weariness making your attention wander.”

The bond tingled with his father’s light hearted emotion, and as Legolas was in a mood to be obliging rather than argumentative, he grinned mischievously as and said, “Admit it, you simply do not wish to hurry back to the (no doubt) endless number of missives and reports awaiting your approval.”

A spark of conspiratorial glee jumped across the bond between them as Thranduil leaned close to Legolas to whisper in his ear, “That _may_ have had some influence on my decision.” Thranduil straightened then said, “I appreciate your offer to help with those missives and reports, Legolas, there will no doubt be plenty for us both.”

Legolas turned to stare at his father, looking at Thranduil through narrowed eyes before he simply shrugged and said, “That is acceptable.” Separating from his father was not at all appealing at this point anyway, even if he found paperwork as tedious as his father did.

The lounge in his father’s study was comfortable enough for sleeping anyway, and Legolas could sleep just as easily there as he could in his rooms.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

 

The next week passed in a flurry of activity as Legolas and his father tended to the backlog of non-urgent royal missives to send to Imladris that had piled up in their absence.

Tedious _and_ time consuming, Legolas would have normally found the work nearly impossible to attend to, and while he still found it mind numbingly dull, it did have the unintended benefit of requiring him to work closely with Thranduil through practically all the daylight hours. The first days after returning, the two spent scarcely more than half an hour away from each other as Legolas had also decided to temporarily move back into the spare bedroom in Thranduil’s suite of rooms that had been Legolas’ own when he was but a small elfling.

Thranduil had eyed the change with slight concern, but he’d allowed it without comment and adjusted his routine to accommodate Legolas’s desire to remain nearby. Legolas could tell that his reluctance to be apart from Thranduil made his father feel conflicted as to whether he should worry over Legolas’s newfound clinginess or over a potential underlying problem with the bond or simply be relieved that having Legolas close by meant that he could ensure that Legolas took regular breaks to both eat and sleep while his fëa was still recovering from the spell.

Still, despite the slight conflict Legolas could feel his father’s concern easing when Legolas volunteered to help train the new guard recruits on a bright, sunny day near the end of their first week back, instead of insisting on staying glued to his father’s side all day. Upon returning to his father’s rooms – or was it _their_ rooms now that he was occupying the space again? – after a long day of training the recruits, he was pleased to find that Thranduil had waited upon his return to eat a late dinner, despite the the hour. Thranduil was sitting in his favorite chair, wine glass in hand with a selection of food waiting on the low table between the fire place and the chairs, and he looked up in greeting as Legolas entered.

He couldn’t resist ribbing his father a little about it despite the warm feeling it gave him, though, “Are you that concerned about my eating habits that you would delay your own dinner just to monitor my own?” He asked with a teasing grin as he dropped his equipment on the table by the door.

Thranduil flashed him a sardonic look over the rim of his wine glass. “Perhaps I just wished to ensure that I had acceptable company for at least one of my meals today.”

Legolas cast a quick glance at the bottle of wine next to Thranduil and noted that his father already had already finished a sizable amount. “That dreadful of a day then?” Legolas poured himself a glass before going to stand behind Thranduil and started kneading one of his father’s shoulders with his free hand, not surprised to find the muscles under his hand knotted with stress. The bond strengthened once more in welcome at Legolas’s touch, but his shields held against the added strain after a moment of struggling keep them in place.

Legolas had felt a low level of annoyance from the bond all day, but it had never risen to a level where he’d felt the need to check to see if something was wrong. Perhaps that had been a mistake, if his father’s day had caused the amount of tension and knots in his muscles that Legolas was encountering. He should have dropped his shields in order to get a better feel of his father’s emotions when that feeling of annoyance made it through both their shields and lasted throughout the whole day, rather than assuming that if something had been truly wrong there would have been spikes of emotion to accompany it and warn Legolas. 

It had been a mistake to underestimate his father’s mental control, especially with the layers of shields up between them to help mask the nuisances of the emotion he felt from Thranduil. Legolas would not make that mistake again. For now, he could help make it up to his father by at least helping to release some of the stress he was carrying in his neck and shoulders.

Thranduil groaned softly and dropped his head to the side to give Legolas more room to work, then said, “ _Worse_. And now I have to interview a new Elf to oversee grain stores and planting.” He made another low sound in his throat and leaned into Legolas’s hand, urging Legolas to massage with a firmer touch.

Legolas grimaced at the news and took a sip from his wine glass before setting it down, freeing both hands to work at Thranduil’s neck and shoulders. “What happened? Yesterday’s meeting on upcoming planting went well enough, did it not?”

Thranduil’s shoulders flexed under his hands, so he dug in a little harder as his father answered, “We both thought something was a little fishy about it though, so after I gave it some more thought today, I decided to pay a visit to our grain stores and see for myself.”

_Oh._ The matter must have concerned the King greatly for him to feel the need to ride all the way over to caves where they stored the grain. Was Legolas really so inattentive when distracted that he hadn’t noticed the change in the bond, or was his father simply that good at controlling his emotions? Legolas frowned. He didn’t like either option, not when it meant he missed things that were important. “What did you find?”

“ _Rats._ And not just the normal rats either but giant corpse rats at that. Half the grain we had set aside for this year’s planting is unusable, and I am having our healers check over the rest of the grain to make sure the rats haven’t infected the rest of the grain. It looked fine, and it was stored in a different area, but I do not wish to take that chance.”

The knowledge made him freeze in shock. He gasped, “ _Corpse_ rats? In the _grain_?” He felt a little sick at the thought. “Why did he not mention the problem at yesterday’s meeting?”

Thranduil nudged his hand with one shoulder, and Legolas started massaging once more as his father said, “When I questioned him about it, he denied all knowledge of it. He even tried to suggest that perhaps it was _I_ who did not know what I was seeing. As if I would not be able to recognize the signs of rats who had been feeding on the corpses of orcs and other foul creatures. I do not know whether he is incompetent or lazy. Either way, I need a new overseer for it. And that doesn’t touch what to do about the grain or the rats. I’ve already had the infected grain carried off to have it burned at a safe distance from all dwellings. But is still the shortfall in the amount of grain to deal with, as well as the rats. And trying to figure out where they are coming from.”

One of those, at least, Legolas could help with. “The new recruits are ready for more of a challenge than shooting at targets and engaging in war games. Let me take them along with some of our ratting dogs, and we can take care of those rats.”

Thranduil nodded. “That will be a good change for them, but make sure they don’t get spooked in the caves and shoot something they shouldn’t.”

Legolas rolled his eyes, “I know how to manage recruits, Ada. I was planning on also taking a couple of the other trainers to help keep an eye on everyone, although I don’t think there will be any problems.”

“Ah, forgive me, ion nín, I forgot that I was dealing with an elf who already knows everything.” Legolas chose that moment to dig his thumb into a particularly painful knot of muscle, making Thranduil hiss softly at the pain before relaxing and moaning softly as the pain subsided. “Speaking of recruits, how was your day?”

“Not half as difficult as yours was,” Legolas answered. ”It was nice enough today that this afternoon was spent working on water drills, and we then split the recruits into several groups and had them complete see which group could construct a rope bridge across the river and get their supplies and ‘wounded’ across the river first.”

“It sounds as though you had a much more agreeable day than I did.” Legolas felt… was it approval coming from his father? Legolas lowered his shield a little, closing his eyes as he struggled to make the shield walls just a bit less thick but not let them collapse completely, and he was pleased when they thinned but stayed up. Thinning them allowed him a more complete view of Thranduil’s emotions, and now Legolas felt not just the main emotion but also a light impression of his background emotions, such as the contented pleasure his own hands created as they forced the knots and tension from his father’s shoulders. He strengthened his shields once more, satisfied that at least _this_ time his father wasn’t hiding something from him.

Legolas felt a stab of guilt for having had such an enjoyable day while his father had been up to his ears in headache-inducing trouble. “I wish you would have contacted me about it. I could have helped you.” Legolas opened his eyes to find his father’s head tilted back, looking up at him a pleased expression. “What?” He asked, startled.

“I am just pleased that you’ve become more comfortable with shielding. And do try to not feel guilty over having enjoyed spending a day in the sun. You’ve spent days cooped up inside, and I am glad that you finally ventured back out. And I can definitely say that the cheery emotions you’ve been sending out all day have made my day more bearable. Not that I object to the impromptu massage, however...” Thranduil reached up and stilled his hands. “As much as I appreciate the massage, we both should eat.”

Legolas gave his shoulders one last affectionate squeeze before letting go and picked up his wine glass and circling around to sit in his customary chair before the fire. “Can you feel when I adjust my own shields?” He asked inquisitively as he leaned forward to pick out a small apple from the selection of fruit. He couldn’t feel changes in Thranduil’s shields unless he completely lowered his own and pressed his fëa close, and he’d assumed that it was the same for his father. He really needed to stop making assumptions, as they’d all proven to be false.

His father frowned at Legolas’s choice of food and placed the plate of cold meats and cheeses closer to Legolas in an obvious suggestion of what his father would like him to eat next. “Don’t just stick to fruit this time, Legolas, and yes, I can feel differences in your shields as you alter them.”

Legolas threw a rude gesture along with an impish grin toward his father. “Stop trying to tell me what to eat. And why can’t I feel when you alter your shields? They always feel the same – I mean, I can feel that they are up, but if you’ve lightened or strengthened them, I can’t feel the difference.”

“Stop giving me reasons to do so, then, if you don’t like it. And I wouldn’t worry too much about not being able to tell when I change mine. Focus on managing your own. Feeling out mine will come with time, and until you are more familiar with how your own feels, you won’t be able to recognize the changes in mine.”

Legolas leaned forward to drop the core of the apple onto the plate, and, with a defiant quirk of his mouth toward his father, he grabbed a small handful of dried cherries.

Thranduil shook his head as he leaned forward to move the fruit to the other side of the table, out of Legolas’s reach, and said, “Sometimes, it’s like you never quite grew out of seeing how far you can push before I snap.”

“Well, you’ve always said I should have a goal to strive for.”

Thranduil sent him a flat stare. “When I said that, I didn’t mean that you should make a goal out of seeing just how close you get to making me lose my temper without quite crossing that line.”

Legolas sigh with exaggerated exasperation, “Fine.” He reached over the table to stab a strip of boar meat with a fork and shoved it into his mouth. “Happy now?” He said around the meat.

“Ecstatic,” Thranduil replied dryly as he retrieved a strip of meat for himself. “And for your cheek, I have the perfect punishment in mind.”

_Punishment_? Legolas shifted uneasily, lowering his shields slightly to get a better picture of what his father was feeling, then he relaxed at what he felt. Thranduil wasn’t annoyed at Legolas, so what could he mean by punishment? “What kind of punishment?” 

“I think I’ll have you draft missives to both Imladris and Lothlorien, informing them of our problems with the grain and asking to trade for any surplus grain they might spare. Make sure you also warn them of the infestation of corpse rats,” Thranduil said this in a matter-of-fact tone, as though what he said was an everyday occurrence, so it took Legolas a couple of seconds to parse through it.

When he finally did, Legolas’s mouth dropped open in shock. “Imladris _and_ Lothlorien?” He repeated in shocked surprise. Thranduil had flatly refused all efforts by Lothlorien – and, by extension, its Lord and Lady – to establish even the rudiments of trade between them since he’d taken Kingship of the Greenwood, following in Oropher’s footsteps in shunning all contact with the other woodland realm. He certainly hadn’t kept elves from visiting any relatives they may have in the other realm – except Legolas, of course, who had yet to step foot in Lothlorien – or even from allowing the Lothlorien Silvan elves to visit any relatives they may have in the Greenwood, but officially at least, Greenwood had no ties to Lothlorien.

Allowing Lothlorien to assist in escorting them back home had been the first major interaction between the two realms, and Thranduil had been reluctant to agree even to that. Losing half their grain for this year’s planting was dire indeed, but they would have been able to make up the loss with extra hunting and foraging through the forest, as well as trading for what grain Elrond could spare. Including Lothlorien must mean, then, that Celeborn’s interactions with them in Imladris _had_ had some positive impact on the relationship between the two Lords!

It hadn’t completely healed the breach, though. Otherwise, Thranduil would have written and sent the missives himself. Having Legolas draft and send documents would convey the message that Lothlorien and Greenwood could start reestablishing trade and diplomatic relations between the two kingdoms. It would not indicate, however, that they should expect visits to happen between the rulers of the realms, like those that had happened between Imladris and Greenwood.

“Yes, yes, Imladris and Lothlorien. Close your mouth, Legolas. You look like a fish out of water with your mouth hanging open like that. Offer Lothlorien some of our surplus textiles. They had a fire go through their production of cloth, so that should be an acceptable trade.”

Trading cloth for grain did not seem like a good trade to Legolas, not when they could make up for the grain shortage in other ways and cloth was so time consuming to produce, but Legolas nodded all the same. His father no doubt had his reasons for suggesting the trade, and Legolas didn’t want to question it too closely lest his father change his mind. “And for Imladris?”

“That shall also be your task. Once you are finished with the missives, present them to me to look over before you send them.”

Of course his father would throw in another test to see how Legolas’s diplomacy skills were developing. “As you wish, Adar,” Legolas stood and gave him a formal bow, then set off quickly toward his father’s study to begin work on the letters, eager to get them finished, approved, and sent off before his father could change his mind.

His father’s slightly amused voice stopped him before he could go more than two steps. “Tomorrow morning is soon enough, Legolas, as it is late and you are still recovering. Head off to bed for now.”

“Will you then be going to bed as well?”

Thranduil sighed, “Yes, I suppose I will, if it appeases your mother-henning qualities and allows you to go to sleep.”

Legolas grinned at his father. “It would.” He refrained from remarking on Thranduil’s own rather developed mother-henning qualities.

“I suppose this is goodnight, then.”

“I suppose it is. Goodnight, Ada.”

“Goodnight, ion nín.”

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

It was in the middle of their second week after returning that Legolas finally felt the first stirrings of responsiveness in his body once more. He’d been languishing idly in his father’s deep stone bathtub filled with warm water when he’d felt the tell-tale tension curling in his stomach. He looked down at his still soft cock with an appraising stare. 

He poked at it gingerly with one finger, head tilting sideways in pensive contemplation as he tried to evaluate whether he felt any desire to continue and touch it again. The last few days had had several false starts, hopeful twinges that had led to disappointment when his cock had stayed soft under his eager hand. As something that had been a daily pleasure-filled indulgence prior to the spell, it had been disconcerting, to say the least, when more than a week had passed by without the slightest urge to find a private moment for himself and vexing to find that touching himself without that accompanying urge would neither quicken himself to hardness nor even spark the slightest urge to continue to touch himself. It had been like touching his tongue. Sensitive to the touch, yes, but not particularly pleasurable.

The slight touch provoked a slither of desire, and so it was with cautious hope that Legolas wrapped a gentle hand around himself and squeezed gently. Relief warred with pleasure when frissons of pleasure sprang as eagerly to his touch as his cock did, the gentle touch sending blood rushing to fill the sensitive flesh.

Surprisingly, his cock felt even _more_ sensitive than usual after the involuntary vacation it had taken, and Legolas decided to hold off on a firmer touch until later. Instead, he leaned back against the pleasantly hot stone of the bath, shuffling down until the back of his head rested on the edge of the stone with his neck just above the water line and spread his thighs a bit to give himself ample room to reacquaint himself with the activity. His eyes slipped shut as he touched himself with just the fingertips of one hand, trailing them lightly along the shaft up to the tip. The teasing touch sent a shiver through him, and he blindly reached out with his other hand to search haphazardly on the low table behind him for a wash cloth to catch anything that might leak from the tip.

No sense in fouling the water, after all.

The coarse weave of the cloth felt rough against the head of his cock as he draped the cloth over it, and Legolas squirmed as it rubbed gently against the hyper sensitive skin there. He pressed down on the cloth a little harder, and the friction was nearly unbearable as he thrust up against it involuntarily, making him whimper softly at the white hot mixture of pleasure tipped over into _too much_ , and he yanked his hand away from the cloth and gripped the side of the tub to steady himself.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he panted, surprised at how quickly his cock had responded to the touch and moaned again when he shifted the hand still on the shaft of his cock to press his palm gently against himself. “Still too much,” he mumbled softly to himself, backing off so that only his fingertips touched once more.

His cock was nearly at full hardness as he trailed his fingers up and down, moving underneath the cloth as he worked himself gently to full hardness with light touches. He tried again with the palm of his hand, squeezing at the base and shuddered as he had to exert himself to keep from thrusting up into his hand at the heat that coursed through him at the firmer touch.

Legolas jolted when the door shook with the force of three heavy _**knock-knock-knocks**_ that echoed through the silence of the bathing room, slipping and dunking himself under the water when he tried to stand. He sat back up just in time to hear his father’s dry, amused voice drift through the closed door, “ _Shields_ , Legolas. As relieved and happy for you as I am that you are finally feeling recovered, your… celebrations… are making it rather difficult to concentrate on reading.”

He flung his arms over the side of the bath, coughing up water and sputtering for air, utterly and completely _mortified_ , before he gathered himself together enough to strengthen his shields once more. Mortification and embarrassment increased ten-fold when he realized that at some point, during his distraction, his shields had not just weakened, but had come _completely_ down.

_Fuck_. How long had they been down? His face and ears felt unbearably hot, but Legolas managed to squeak out a humiliated, “Sorry, Ada,” as he buried his face in his arms. He started building his shields again and made sure to pour extra energy into strengthening and maintaining them.

This also had the added bonus of helping to block out some of his father’s amusement at Legolas’s predicament, even if it couldn’t block out the soft chuckles Legolas could just make out through the thick wood of the door between them. Thranduil raised his voice to say, “Not to worry, ion nín. Some slip ups are expected to occur while you are still learning and getting used to having to shield. I thought you would wish to know that your shields had slipped, though.”

Now that he was paying attention to the bond, it fairly rang with his father’s amusement, even through _both_ their shields, so whatever his father may say, Legolas still knew that he found the whole situation nearly too humorous for words. “You’re all heart, Ada.”

“I do try.”

“I’m sure.” Maybe he could just _drown_ himself, then he’d never have to face his father again.

“For future reference, would you prefer I tell you immediately when your shields slip, or would you rather I wait to do so until you finish?”

Oh, _Valar_. Maybe he would just drown his father instead. “Go _**away**_ , Ada!” Sometimes – most times – Legolas wished his father didn’t enjoy making him squirm in so much.

As soon as he heard Thranduil walk away from the door, still chuckling to himself, Legolas wrapped his hand back around himself, and – after pausing to make sure his shields were firmly in place – squeezed hard, no longer feeling in the mood to draw things out or be particularly gentle with himself. Instead, he stroked himself with determination, using the water of the bath to help ease the friction, and chased after his orgasm. A stray whimper slipped unwillingly past his lips, and he tightly covered his mouth with his free hand to muffle any further noises that the rough handling might draw from him.

To his frustration though, Legolas found orgasm out of reach that night, despite his effort chasing after it. If anything, the more he determinedly sought out completion, the farther away it seemed, much to his discontent. Legolas groaned as he gave up and grumbled, “This is all your fault, Ada,” softly to himself as he dropped his head back down on his arm and released his cock.

Perhaps mortification and embarrassment _could_ keep an elf from orgasm. Or – as was more likely the case – his fëa wasn’t quite as healed as he had hoped. This hadn’t been the first time Thranduil had interrupted him, as he’d been less than discreet when he’d been _much_ younger and had just discovered what other fun things his cock could do, and he’d always been able to come once Thranduil had finished teasing him mercilessly and left him alone. So perhaps now it was that simply that his fëa was healed enough to spark arousal, but not yet at the point where he could finish the deed, so to speak. The slight discomfort he was feeling from his fëa convinced him that he would just have to wait once more.

It had started out so auspiciously, too.

Legolas spent a further twenty minutes in the bath, first in glumly waiting for his erection to go back down and then in sulking quietly to himself in the tub as he tried to listen for signs of his father leaving the main room.

His father was no more merciful now then he had been in the past. Instead of leaving, Legolas heard the sounds of him settling down in one of the chairs in the main room and the soft clinking of a wine glass as it was filled and placed on a table.

Not leaving anytime soon, then. Of course not. Why would his father leave when there could be further opportunities to make his son squirm by simply staying put?

Thranduil was going to experience the horror of finding his favorite – and extremely difficult to obtain – wine _gone_ , because Legolas was going to drink it _all_ as recompense for all of this and leave the dredges for him to find and lament over.

With a long-suffering huff, Legolas finally resigned himself to having to deal with Thranduil’s knowing glances and hauled himself up out of the bath after pulling out the plug in the bottom of the tub. He grabbed a towel to dry himself off, then he tied it around his waist. Legolas paused to gather himself before having to confront his father, not surprised to already feel the color rising in his cheeks as he hesitated at the door.

It wasn’t as though he could live in the bathroom forever, after all, and lingering too long in the bathing room would just give his father further opportunities to tease him.

Maybe his father would take pity on him and allow Legolas to cleanly escape to barricade himself in his room without commenting. That slight hope was dashed when Legolas opened the door leading into the main room to see him glance up from his book and give him a wicked smile adeptly disguised as a friendly greeting.

“Ah, Legolas!” The bond hummed obnoxiously with his father’s mirth, even through both their shields. “Would you care for some wine?”

Only if Legolas could drown either himself or his father in it. Thranduil had the singular talent of being completely obnoxious while still managing to maintain a manner of the utmost polite geniality. “Ada, know that I say this with the most intense feelings of respect and esteem for you. _Shut up._ ”

With that, Legolas stomped off to his room while holding the towel in place, because the last thing he needed was for it to fall off. Thranduil, of course, refused to allow Legolas the last word, and the last words Legolas heard before the door slammed behind him were, “Is something the matter, Legolas? Those sorts of… _celebrations_ … usually leave you so much more relaxed than this.”

Slamming of the door was Legolas’s response to that.

Legolas collapsed against the door once he closed it, letting the door support his weight as he shook his head in exasperation. If Elrond plagued his sons as Thranduil plagued him, Legolas would shave his head and volunteer for court duty.


	10. Chapter 10

The next day, Legolas woke to the same foul mood he’d fallen asleep with, and the events of that morning did nothing improve it.

For breakfast in their chambers - they had taken it together since returning - Legolas planned to convey show his resentment of Thranduil’s behavior the previous night by ignoring any and all attempts his father made to engage him in conversation until the message got across. Giving his father the silent treatment was, perhaps, a bit petty, but it had proven successful in the past - and it wasn’t as though his father’s behavior had been any more mature.

Instead of making Thranduil grovel for forgiveness - a scene that would have done _wonders_ for Legolas’s mood - Legolas found that as terrible as his mood had been before sitting down for breakfast, it could still sink further.

Much to Legolas’s annoyance - and, perhaps, a very _tiny_ amount of hurt as eating breakfast together had become something he looked forward to - Thranduil seemed to completely forget that he typically _sat down_ for breakfast with Legolas now.

Legolas watched with a small frown on his face as Thranduil paced about, looking for some set of reports from the previous year while going on about some meeting of the village leaders at the palace, although why it was suddenly so important Legolas didn’t know as his father hadn’t paused - hadn’t even given Legolas a single moment of his undivided attention that morning - and Legolas didn’t have the opportunity ask any questions before he suddenly found himself alone, in their chambers, and staring blankly at the door his father had just left without so much as a _sorry to miss our breakfast_. 

Legolas poked disinterestedly at his bowl of cooked cereal and fruit with his spoon while he waited to see if his father would come back, but after several minutes passed, he pushed it away and stood up. It wasn’t as though this were the first time kingdom matters had his father all in an uproar, and being annoyed by it - much less _hurt_ by it - was rather like being annoyed at his father’s devotion to Greenwood. 

The perceived snubbing was difficult to let go, though. It wasn’t selfish to wish his father had spared five seconds for him before leaving, was it? Thranduil hadn’t even asked if Legolas wished to alter his schedule to assist with whatever had occurred, hadn’t even indicated if Legolas could be useful to him in some way.

Perhaps it was just the humiliation from last night that made him more sensitive to being slighted. It wasn’t as though Legolas had purposely let his shields slip, it had been an accident. 

Legolas took a minute to carefully check his shields and felt a small surge of satisfaction despite himself when they still stood strong and solid. Even if he _was_ angry with his father, he didn’t wish to be a distraction. For Thranduil’s concern to show physically in his behavior meant that something was not very much not right, and Legolas wasn’t _quite_ so petty that he wished to inflict his foul mood on his father when he obviously had bigger things to deal with. If it also meant that Legolas could keep his father from feeling the frustration centered in his nether regions over last night's _unsuccessful_ activities, well… 

His father didn’t need to be distracted by _that_ either, now did he?

Training the guard recruits that morning was first on the agenda, and while the activity helped disperse some of his foul mood, it achieved little else, much to his dismay. If the visible relief on the faces of his trainees at the appearance of the messenger was anything to go by, the new recruits weren’t in a much better mood. Legolas dismissed the recruits and turned to face the approaching messenger.

“Prince Legolas! Urgent message from the King,” the messenger announced as he stopped in front of Legolas, holding out missive sealed in wax with the King’s signet. Legolas took it, eyes alight with curiosity. First, he’d been tasked with an urgent meeting with all the village leaders, and now his father deemed something important enough to send a runner after him? _Something _must have happened. Legolas lowered his shields a tad, unconsciously reaching out to get a better reading on the emotions underneath Thranduil’s granite-like shield walls. He felt the concern his father was feeling but not to the degree Legolas would have expected to accompany a major orc attack or some other disaster.__

__Legolas’s shield walls - which, when compared to Thranduil’s shields, were as porous and weak as sandstone - nearly crumbled in shock when he felt the press of his father’s distracted attention reach _back_ , and Legolas drew away in surprise, retreating back behind his shields instinctively. He could extend himself outside of his shields _without_ lowering them? _ _

___How?_ Legolas didn’t think he could recreate it. Not right then, at least, but it was still interesting that it was even _possible_. Was it the bond that let them do it? _ _

__A _tap_ against his shields drew his attention away from his musing, and Legolas felt a swirl of demanding impatience rasp against his shields. Legolas had the eerie suspicion that Thranduil somehow _knew_ he’d gotten the missive, and that he’d just felt the emotional equivalent of being told to _open the damned thing rather than just stand there like a fool staring at it_._ _

__He opened the missive, read it through quickly, and then folded it up neatly to placed it inside his waist satchel. How could he send a reply? His father had obviously figured out - or had already known - how to send something while shielding, but Legolas was at a loss as to how to recreate what his father had done._ _

__Legolas certainly wasn’t going to lower his shields to do so. Legolas doubted Thranduil had _ever_ felt the least bit frustrated by thwarted desire, and he had no desire to educate Thranduil on just how it felt. _ _

__He attempted to send affirmation through his shields, but Legolas wasn’t quite sure if he’d been anywhere near as successful as Thranduil had been. Just in case, he sent a quick message with the runner back to his father, stating that Legolas would tour the nearby southern villages and send back to the King his assessment of how much damage the rats had cause in their stores._ _

__\- - - - - - - - - -_ _

__Legolas, despite his best efforts, made it back to the palace in time to dress and attend the formal dinner that Thranduil had planned and required Legolas to attend._ _

__Legolas’s sour expression reflected back at him from the mirror he was using to re-braid his hair into a style ornate enough to fit the standard of decorum that was expected of the Crown Prince at a formal dinner. The advisors were useful, of course, and Legolas even liked a few of them, but formal dinners were such a tedious, dreadful occasion, and the rest of the elves in attendance were dull._ _

__Not to mention, he looked like a _peacock_. One that had been decorated and sacrificed in order to hold a feast. He scowled again at his appearance. _ _

__“Come along, Legolas. The sooner it starts, the sooner it ends, and you can go back to wearing the rags you so adore.”_ _

__Ah. The elf responsible for his current aggravation. “They aren’t _rags_ , Adar, although I suppose I can understand the confusion, given the overwhelming brilliance of your own clothing. You must suffer some unfortunate temporary blindness.” His father’s presence in the room meant that he couldn’t even pretend to ‘forget the time’ and conveniently miss most of it, and he’d not let the older elf forget the imposition._ _

__Legolas dropped his head to the table with a loud thump, and he heard his father chuckle from somewhere behind him. “You still have to go, even if you give yourself a concussion, Legolas.”_ _

__“At least if I am unconscious, I don’t have to listen to another droning recitation of the complete pedigree of a particular breed of dog. _Again_.” _ _

__“Nonsense, I am sure Gelon has found other interests by now. Perhaps you’ll be so lucky as to learn the complete pedigree some rare form of songbird this time. Now, enough procrastinating, Legolas. We do not wish to miss the opening entertainment.”_ _

__Legolas sent one last resigned look at himself before following after his father._ _

__

__\- - - - - - - -_ _

__

__The dinner finally dragged to an end, having been every bit as dreadful as Legolas had feared, and yet there was still yet another late night of working with boring, tiresome advisors looming over him. He cast a glance toward his father, eyebrows raising hopefully once he caught Thranduil’s attention, and the other elf eyed him contemplatively before finally nodding with taciturn dismissal. Relief flooded him, and when the door to his father’s bedchamber shut firmly behind him, he smiled with weary satisfaction at the empty room._ _

__Even if _his father_ somehow found attending those sorts of events enjoyable, Legolas had yet to find wearing stiff, scratchy clothing with more layers than an onion to be anything but draining._ _

__The ornate and decidedly stiff and uncomfortable outer layer was already half off by the time he’d made it halfway to the door to his bedchamber, and it was just a matter of moments before he’d shirked it off the rest of the way. He sniffed distastefully at it as he draped it haphazardly over the back of a chair inside his bedchamber. At least the layers closest to his skin were soft and light. They lacked the ornately woven leaves and vines that made the outer layer so very stiff and uncomfortable to wear._ _

__Legolas flopped gracelessly onto his bed as he toed first the boots and then his socks off, wiggling his toes in relief. How could Thranduil _bear_ wearing ensembles like this all day, every day? Part of the reason Legolas liked being in the field was the excuse to wear nothing more ornate than his leathers, whereas Thranduil took every opportunity to parade around in elaborate costumes. Even if he liked the intimidating and elegant look of the design (which he undoubtedly _did_ ) how did the man not scratch his own skin off?_ _

__Although… that _would_ explain his frequent bouts of ill-temper, Legolas thought with a thrill of amusement. Did he even wear that sort of clothing to _bed_?_ _

__Legolas didn’t know what he typically wore to bed, but Thranduil hadn’t worn anything elaborate while they’d been trapped in their quarters in Imladris. First, he’d been wearing just the soft undershirt and leggings, and then he’d been wearing even _less_. _ _

__The minimal clothing certainly hadn’t made Thranduil any less authoritarian, Legolas thought with a frown. Legolas fingered the hem of his undershirt and, before he could think too much on it, sat up and peeled it off over his head. _Thranduil_ had been the one to peel it off Legolas that time, Legolas recalled as he laid back down, and when Legolas had resisted Thranduil, he’d simply pinned the younger elf down and slid it off him with deliberate ease. Legolas could practically _feel_ the strong, heavy weight of his father on top of him right now, pressing him firmly down against the bed with Legolas’s struggles not budging him in the least._ _

__

__He inhaled sharply, a pang of arousal sparking against his shields as he then recalled being on the opposite end, pinning his father’s strong wrists to the bed and _biting_ him. Thranduil may have retaliated, may have pinned Legolas back down and bitten him until he’d surrendered, but for those brief couple of wondrous moments, _Thranduil_ had been the one pinned down, helpless under his teeth._ _

___Fuck_. Another wave of arousal crashed into his shields, threatening to bring them down, and Legolas ripped his hand from where it had wandered to press against himself through his leggings. When had _that_ happened? He fisted his hands in the blankets underneath him as he panted and struggled to keep his shields from crumbling. _ _

___This_ was why he’d delayed checking to see if his fëa had finished healing between yesterday and today, even if it meant he started finding the _weirdest_ things arousing because of that denial. If his shields collapsing yesterday had been utterly humiliating, having them collapse _again_ today for the _same_ reason would be so much worse. _ _

__Thranduil would be merciless._ _

__Legolas took a deep breath and shuddered again. Hopefully, those surges of emotion hadn’t made it past his shields. Or his thoughts, for that matter. His father picking up his thoughts from the past few minutes would be _unthinkable_._ _

__He forced his muscles to relax. The bond didn’t send thoughts though, right? Only emotion. So even if some of the spikes of emotion had made it through his shields, his father would have no way to know that they’d been caused by… well. _That_. He breathed a small sigh of relief._ _

__Legolas could just picture his father’s cool, teasing response to the knowledge, the way his eyebrows would arch arrogantly, and the sly, smug way he’d say, _Really, Legolas? Does picturing being held down and bitten really make you lose all control?_ He’d take a slow sip of wine, his teasing eyes never leaving Legolas’s. _Tsk, tsk, to think simply picturing it was enough to make your shields crumble. It’s simply unacceptable that a son of mine would have so little control._ Thranduil would then lean over him and pin him face down on the bed by his neck as he purred in his ear, _We’ll just have to practice until you get it right, won’t we?_ And then his father would put his mouth on Legolas’s ear and nip with his teeth until-_ _

__

__His cock jerked without him touching it, startling him, and Legolas bit his lip. He frantically shook his head, trying to dislodge the image forming in his head._ _

__No, no, _no_ , _**no**_! That would _not_ be what his father said or did in that situation. And certainly, that wasn’t what Legolas wanted! This was all _Thranduil’s_ fault. If his father hadn’t interrupted when he had, Legolas probably would have been able to finish, and then he wouldn’t now have these weird thoughts in his head._ _

__Legolas lifted his head off the bed to glare down at his half hard cock through his leggings. His flesh twitched, calling to him. Legolas’s thumped his head back against the bed in annoyance. He blinked and lifted his head to look again at himself, still at half mast, still begging for attention. He furrowed his eyebrows._ _

__Well… _why not_? He wanted to try again, and what reason was there against it?_ _

__Thranduil was practically across the palace, distracted by wine shipments or something like that, so Legolas wouldn’t have to worry about being interrupted again, and even distance made no difference to the bond. It certainly couldn’t hurt to have that distance between them. At the very least, it did _wonders_ for his peace of mind._ _

__And now that he was aware of the problem, Legolas could simply split his attention and keep an eye how how his shields were faring. It’d be more difficult, but more than worth the effort._ _

__Legolas shivered in anticipation as he rolled over to grab the small bottle of oil off of the small table beside his bed, uncorking it and giving it a quick sniff before he settled back on the bed. He unbuttoned the front fastenings of his leggings and shimmied them down a little, wiggling about until he was comfortable and then wrapped his lightly oiled palm around himself and _squeezed_. _ _

__His eyes slipped closed as the touch sent a thrill of satisfaction through him, and he squeezed harder before sliding his hand down the length, rubbing his thumb firmly against the tip. A surge of pleasure raced through him, and he froze for the one infinitely long moment that his shield walls trembled alarmingly under the strain._ _

__They steadied as the surge of pleasure receded, and Legolas inhaled sharply, remembering to breathe, once the danger had passed._ _

__After feeding a small bit of energy into the shields to strengthen them, Legolas frowned, eyes shut in concentration as he slowly slid his hand experimentally down the length of his cock._ _

__And, unlike the response to the firmer touch, his shields stood steady through the first light tough, as well as the second, and then the third._ _

__Legolas groaned and thumped his head against the bed several times. Slow and steady it was, then…_ _

__He sighed in frustration. At least his father wasn’t due back for several hours._ _

__Legolas stoked his fingers lightly up the shaft several times, squeezing gently when he reached the tip before trailing the tips back down his heated flesh. He tossed his head back with a cry when he squeezed the sensitive skin too hard, the sudden jolt sending a shockwave through him._ _

__The effort of stilling his hips and removing his hand made him bite his trembling lip in protest, but the temptation to just recklessly _fuck_ his cock into the tight grip of his hand and worry later about his father was too nearly too strong to resist. Only when he was sure that his shields were solid and the temptation receded a little did he place his hand back onto himself, slowly and carefully working himself closer and closer to the edge with a light grip, jaw clenched tightly as he forced his hand to keep to the slow, gentle, and _entirely maddening_ pace._ _

__A low whimper lodged in his throat when he had to stop _again_ and feed more energy into his shields. His muscles trembled with the effort not to break the slow, controlled pace when he started moving his hand again, abandoning any finesse for the simple curl and slide of his fingers against his cock._ _

__It was maddeningly frustrating, the gentle tug of his fingers made him long to touch himself roughly, more firmly, but at least his shields were staying solid and strong, and he could feel himself drawing closer and closer to coming, even if the strain of keeping to this pace made beads of sweat slide down his forehead. His fëa felt stifled, constricted, like it had too much energy with nowhere to put it, starting off faint and barely perceptible, but the closer he got to the edge, the more intense it became._ _

__He whimpered again, frustrated at the slow and steady march, and then - with surprising suddenness - felt himself delicately balancing on the edge, and _just one more touch was all he needed and-__ _

___Legolas cried out as it slipped away from him, like so much mist evading his grasping fingers. Legolas choked back a disbelieving sob as his cock thrummed hot with need, curling on his side and rubbing his thumb against the tip, the light touch to sensitive skin making his cock jerk eagerly, but to no avail. The more he tried to grab hold of it, to ease himself carefully into orgasm, the less willing his fëa seemed to be to give up its horded energy. Legolas panted, chest heaving, as he tried again, stroking himself desperately, only to have it stay firmly out of reach. He turned over, pressing his overheated and oversensitized body against the bed and brought both arms up to bury his face in them._ _ _

___He gasped at the hot press of his cock against the firmness of the bed, head turning to bite down on his forearm as he gave into the _humiliating_ and unelvish urge to thrust against the bed. _ _ _

___Legolas cried out in humiliated disbelief as even _that_ didn’t pry open the stranglehold his fëa kept, only caused it to twinge sorely at him, and he gave up with a half choked sob. Legolas stayed as he was for a few defeated seconds before flipping back over. _ _ _

___He couldn’t wallow in his failure, not when he had to turn his attention to making sure his crumbling, half standing shields didn’t collapse completely. _That_ , at least, he could still salvage._ _ _

___ _

___\--- --- --- ---_ _ _

___The lingering soreness that the spell had caused had already faded into nothingness, so to have it reappear was alarming, to say the least. Yesterday’s activity had left his fëa in slight discomfort, while today’s…_ _ _

___Legolas sat down heavily in his chair, biting his lip as he glanced over at Thranduil’s chair, then away again. Should he tell his father about this? Thranduil had told Legolas to inform him if anything was amiss, but _surely_ this was simply a result of his fëa not being fully recovered yet. Telling Thranduil before Legolas was even sure something was wrong would needlessly worry his father._ _ _

___The soreness wasn’t _that_ bad. Tomorrow would be better._ _ _

___And if it wasn’t, if he _still_ was having trouble… Only then Legolas would think about telling him._ _ _

___For now, Legolas had something else to attend to. This was all his father’s fault - somehow - and if Legolas couldn’t enjoy himself, neither would Thranduil. And what did Thranduil like the most? What made him wax poetic over its subtle flavor and the ingenuity it must have taken to figure out how to make it more potent than was typically possible for wine?_ _ _

___Legolas grinned vengefully to himself. How considerate of his father to leave the last two bottles of that odd, _rare_ wine he liked so much so conveniently accessible for Legolas to sample. _ _ _

___And _finish_._ _ _

___Legolas turned his attention to his inner time sense, and, after determining that Thranduil would be gone for _at least_ another two hours, Legolas turned his attention to finishing those two bottles his father’s best, and most _favorite_ , wine. Two hours would give him plenty of time to make a sizable dent, and, even if he couldn’t find completion, at the very least he was going to get _utterly_ and completely drunk._ _ _

___The liquor cabinet was located in the corner of the main room, not in his father’s bedchamber luckily. The sole two bottles of his father’s favorite wine were easy enough to find, even in the enclosed shelf that protected it from the light. Legolas grabbed those two bottles as well as a bottle of his own personal favorite, then returned to his chair and set them down on the table._ _ _

___Legolas paused before sitting down to glance over at Thranduil’s chair, his mouth curving into a slow grin as he _hummed_ softly to himself. “Ada always did say that if something ought to be done, I ought to do it to the very best of my ability,” Legolas murmured softly to himself as he reached out to run his hand against the soft fabric of his father’s chair._ _ _

___Drinking the last of Thranduil’s favorite wine – which was so _hard_ to find these days – was sure to irritate his father. Having him return to find Legolas sitting in _his_ chair while drinking his favorite wine?_ _ _

___It would be like twisting the tail of an enraged bull._ _ _

___His reaction would be _divine_._ _ _

___Legolas settled gingerly in his father’s chair, glancing around as though his father would come prowling out the second he sat down, but of course nothing happened. Not when Legolas sat down, not when he poured himself a sizable glass of the wine, and not when he settled comfortably back to down half the glass at once. Legolas sputtered a little at the strong, smokey, pitch flavor of the wine, but he swallowed it with a grimace anyway and gagged a little at the taste. If Legolas had to guess, the only reason his father drank it was that it was one of the few wines alcoholic enough to affect even an elf as old as his father. Legolas snorted._ _ _

___His father was going to _kill_ him._ _ _

___ _

___\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -_ _ _

___ _

___Legolas woke to find Thranduil leaning over him, looking at him with furrowed brows. “Hello, Ada,” he said with a drunk, happy little smile and a hum of delight. He could be mad at Thranduil later, right now he was simply feeling too _pleased_ at the sudden appearance of his father to summon up the necessary irritation._ _ _

___Thranduil quirked an eyebrow at him and turned his attention to the burgled bottles of wine, holding one of his favorites up to eye level before setting it back down and picking up a different bottle from the floor. He didn’t bother holding that one up to check how full it was, as it was obviously empty and instead just placed it next to the other one on the table. The last bottle of wine, which Legolas hadn’t even gotten around to opening prior to falling asleep, Thranduil picked up and walked back to place back in the liquor cabinet, setting it down inside the enclosed shelf that Legolas had gotten it from, which he then locked. He pocketed the key. “Did you really drink half a bottle of that?” Thranduil returned and asked, pointing to the half full bottle disapprovingly._ _ _

____Legolas nodded gravely. “It tasted like smoked spider urine,” Legolas said, his words only slurring a little bit when he put an effort into making them clear. “Do spiders even pee?”  
.  
“I must say, that is something I haven’t cared enough about to find out.” Legolas felt his chin grabbed, and his face tilted up so that he and his father were eye to eye. Thranduil stared at him intently. _ _

___The deep blue of his father’s eyes was captivating, and Legolas leaned into the hand on his chin and reached one hand up to Thranduil’s face to press his thumb against the smooth line of one arched eyebrow as he basked in being the focus of all that intensity. “You’re so pretty, Ada,” he said with an approving hum._ _ _

___Thranduil sighed and rolled his eyes, “Thank you, ion nín. I am happy to see that despite your utter _foolishness_ , you didn’t drink enough to heave it all over my bedchamber floor, which would not be a pleasant way to end the day. I am going to enjoy waking you up _bright_ and _early_ for practice with the guard. My choice of wine is _much_ stronger than the wine you usually drink, so it should be rather interesting to watch how you fare tomorrow.”_ _ _

___Legolas waved off his concern. “I didn’t drink _that_ much, don’t worry so much.” Belying his words, his hand was still lightly petting Thranduil’s face, moving from his eyebrow to his cheek. It wasn’t until his questing fingers made as if to press against Thranduil’s mouth that Legolas found his hand being removed from his father’s face and pressed firmly against the armrest once more. _ _ _

___“Somehow I doubt that,” Thranduil said, suppressing a sigh as he picked up Legolas’s wine glass and waved it in front of Legolas’s face as he asked, “Drinking my wine while sitting in my chair? What brought this on? You don’t usually drink enough to get past slightly tipsy, much less drunk. And even attempting to drink two bottles… Were you trying to make yourself sick?”_ _ _

___Legolas tuned out most of his father’s lecture and chose to focus on a single part of it to respond to. “ _Your_ chair?” Legolas poked at the upholstery of the arm of the chair, not able to resist sulking a little at being denied the ability to touch Thranduil’s face. “You weren’t even here.” He punctuated his displeasure by frowning at his father._ _ _

___His unapologetic, sulky tone made Thranduil stare flatly at him before rolling his eyes again, and, evidently having had enough of trying to communicate with Legolas, physically picked him up out of the chair and carefully set him on his feet. Thranduil eyed Legolas dubiously as he swayed from side to side before regaining his balance by grabbing onto the table. Thranduil sat down with a long suffering sigh and poured himself a glass of the wine, the bond shifting from aggravated concern to pleasure with a tinge of concern as Thranduil held the glass to his nose to inhale the scent. “I ask again, what brought this on? Is there something wrong? You feel… frustrated? Or is that aggravation? Trying to feel your emotions when you’re this drunk is like trying to see through molasses and about as useful.”_ _ _

___Finding himself standing on his own two feet instead of curled up in his father’s chair made him blink in disorientation for a second, the sudden movement making his vision blur sickeningly. _Well_. Legolas continued to frown at his father as he waited for Thranduil to finish situating himself. He would just have to introduce his father to the joys of sharing his chair._ _ _

___Which, now that Legolas thought about it, was _even better_ than having to sit by himself in that chair. If his father was around, why would Legolas want him to sit in a different chair when they could sit in the _same_ chair?_ _ _

___Forget _their_ breakfast together, would he? Thranduil would just have to make it up to Legolas in other ways. _ _ _

___Legolas sighed impatiently as he waited for Thranduil to finish settling down in the chair, then crawled up into the chair as well. Thranduil froze, body stiffening, and the bond shifted to surprised unease. Legolas would normally try to make sure Thranduil was comfortable with the level of contact - his father’s personal space issues had issues - but after humiliating Legolas the day before - and wrecking what could have been a _delightful_ time - his father could deal with a little uneasiness. He would just have to get used to Legolas not giving him his personal space, as Legolas rather _liked_ how close they had to be to both fit in the chair. Legolas would just have to convince his father to be a bit more… _accommodating_ , and after the day he had - and perhaps, the rather substantial amount of wine he’d had - Legolas found he was in just the right reckless, provoking mood to push a few of his father’s personal space boundaries without thought to the consequences._ _ _

___Legolas’s arms wound his arm around Thranduil’s chest, and he squirmed around trying to find a comfortable spot on top until Thranduil finally lifted an arm up, letting Legolas settle closer to his body, and wrapped an arm around Legolas tightly, stilling his movement. Legolas sighed happily as he pressed his face into Thranduil’s neck, inhaling the familiar scent with contentment. Thranduil’s scent was a pleasant combination of wood smoke and cedar with just a touch of wine, and it filled his senses with a pleasant headiness that reminded Legolas of strong wine. A low, pleased noise rumbled in his throat, and he tried to wiggle closer. This might just make up for having forgotten and ignored Legolas at breakfast._ _ _

___“You aren’t listening to a word I say, are you?” Resigned amusement, now. Why couldn’t his father just pick an emotion and stick with it? His constant shifts of emotion were dizzying. Thranduil’s head shifted against his hair as he looked down at his son._ _ _

___Legolas inhaled deeply once more, closing his eyes and humming contently. So _nice_. At least _his_ ada smelled good even if his emotions jumped about like corn over a fire. His eyes popped open. _ _ _

____Hmmmm... >_ Legolas drew back just a little to eye his father’s neck contemplatively. Why hadn’t he thought of this before? Now that he’d thought of it, Legolas found the urge to lick his neck- to _taste_ \- and see if Thranduil tasted as good as he smelled. Legolas suppressed a grin, not want to alert his father to the possibility that Legolas was planning something. Surprising his father was the _best_._ _ _

___Luckily, Thranduil wasn’t wearing a high necked collar, so Legolas had all this bare skin to choose from! After spending a moment to rejoice in the sheer amount of skin available to his to choose from, he pressed his tongue against the skin right underneath his father’s ear and _licked_ the soft skin there delicately with the tip of his tongue. The pleasant texture and taste against his tongue made him shiver and ducked his head to try again in a different spot._ _ _

___Thranduil jumped in surprise, jerking the moment Legolas’s tongue touched him. “ _What_ are you doing?” Thranduil didn’t shout, but it was a near thing, in Legolas’s opinion, and he tried to lean away from Legolas’s mouth._ _ _

___“Stop moving, you’re making it difficult,” Legolas demanded, resolutely ignoring the cautious voice inside him urging him to curb to these reckless impulses. Instead, he followed the movement furtively, eyeing his father’s ear for a second before he licked that too (his ada _always_ said to be thorough, after all), dragging the tip of his tongue up the bottom edge of it nearly toward the tip before a quick, sharp pain in his scalp preceded being yanked rudely away. _ _ _

___“Legolas!” His father snapped at him, and Legolas would call _that_ a shout. Maybe he didn’t like having his ear licked? Legolas tilted his head. Perhaps he should move back to his neck, Legolas still hadn’t pressed his tongue against the pulse point in his father’s neck, which had been another spot he’d considered. But his father’s ears were just so tempting… So nicely shaped and elegant, how could Legolas resist?_ _ _

____Hmmm. _Maybe he should offer his ear to Thranduil to lick. He might, if Thranduil didn’t let go of his hair. Legolas squirmed, but the hold on his hair didn’t loosen. He wanted to rub his tongue against the skin by the very tip of Thranduil’s ear, just in case it felt or tasted different. Legolas widened his eyes, frowning just a little as he looked imploringly at his father.__ _ _ _

_____“What in the _world_ are you thinking?_ ” Thranduil ignored the look and tugged harshly on his hair again. Legolas winced. If pouting wouldn’t work, what would? If only his father weren’t shielding so heavily right now, Legolas would have a better idea, but Thranduil had himself so tightly locked down that Legolas could only feel faint wisps of indistinct emotion from him. Or was the fact that he was drunk making it more difficult to pinpoint his father’s emotions?_ _ _ _

_____Well._ If puppy eyes wouldn’t work, perhaps trickery would. Legolas cried out, deliberately cutting it short to make it more believable, exaggerating the pain the tension on his hair was creating and arched back into the hold. “ _Ada_ ,” he whined plaintively, “Why are you being so rough? I didn’t hurt you.” Legolas let his eyes well with tears, careful not to let them slip down his face._ _ _ _

____Legolas didn’t know if it was the sight of the tears or if it was the confusion etched on his father’s face, but the grip on his hair abruptly softened. “Legolas, I have no idea wh- _ouch_ , damn it, Legolas, _no biting_!”_ _ _ _

____Legolas released Thranduil’s ear from between his teeth at the pained cry from his father and leaned back, feeling a pang of remorse and a twinge of embarrassment as the small part up toward the tip of his father’s ear started to darken where he had bit it. “Sorry, Ada.” Legolas said apologetically, and offered up “You smelled good?” as a paltry excuse._ _ _ _

____“And how does me smelling good lead to you _biting_ me?”_ _ _ _

____Legolas leaned back to look at Thranduil’s face, frowning at his obtuseness. Surely the connection wasn’t hard to follow. Then he shrugged. Shocked and confused was a rather nice look on his father, it made his eyes go slightly wide, and his expression changed in a subtle way that made Legolas want to bite him again. It called to mind how it had felt to have Thranduil pinned underneath him for those few brief moments, and unlike earlier in his bedchamber, Legolas couldn’t remember the reason why he hadn’t indulged in following that line of thought. Still… he didn’t want his father to _leave_ , which he might if Legolas pushed too much. And he did regret biting so _hard_ , especially as he’d bitten the skin around the tip of his father’s ear, and the tips were just so _sensitive_ to the least bit of pressure. The slightest tweak of the ear from his father was enough to make Legolas behave, even when he was in the most belligerent of moods, and Legolas couldn’t imagine how it had felt to have it bitten so fiercely. Legolas reached up to rub the ear he’d bitten apologetically as he said, “I’m sorry… I just wanted to taste you, to see if you tasted good.” Legolas eyed his father earnestly._ _ _ _

____Thranduil stared back at him blankly, not even blinking. Legolas waited patiently for him to say _something_ , but Thranduil just continued to stare at him as though Legolas had broken him._ _ _ _

____Had he? Legolas felt another pang of guilt. Had he bitten _too_ hard; was this a delayed reaction? “Ada? Are you okay?” Maybe he needed to be licked again. “Do you need to be licked again?” Legolas said hopefully. No reason he couldn’t _enjoy_ helping, was there?_ _ _ _

_____That_ got a reaction, although not the one Legolas had been hoping for. The hand in his hair tightened again, jerking firmly, and Legolas whined again, this time without having to fake it. Thranduil looked closely at him, studying his face, then he shook his head, chuckling darkly, “You wanted to see if I tasted good?” Thranduil leaned back and chuckled again, an odd sound that sent shivers up his spine. Legolas squirmed again, another whimper rising in his throat as the hand in his hair pulled again. “Honestly, the things you say… The next time, _Legolas_ , that you want to find out if I taste good, please wait till you’re not so drunk that you have trouble standing up by yourself, and I’ll give you something you can taste _all_ you want. Until then, _keep your **damned** mouth to yourself_! Understand?” _ _ _ _

____Legolas blinked in confusion. His father sounded rather frustrated with him, which he supposed wasn’t all that surprising. Legolas _was_ trying to push him out of his comfort zone rather deliberately, but his father was reacting to things Legolas hadn’t expected to. And why wouldn’t he want to taste all he wanted? That was was he was trying to do, and his father kept stopping him. _ _ _ _

____Legolas studied Thranduil curiously. Oh. _Oh_. Legolas stifled a shocked gasp and ducked his head to hide his expression. The distinctly frustrated expression was tinged with _arousal_. It was rather fitting that his father had to suffer a little with it after what Legolas had been through. Legolas schooled his expression and hoped his emotions were still fuzzy through the bond. _ _ _ _

____Did he continue to press now, while he had the upper hand, or did he wait until Thranduil was no longer expecting it? He didn’t know quite why his father was so frustrated with Legolas licking him if it felt good to him too, but Legolas was more willing - eager even - to exploit that weakness. But surprise was nice as well, and if he pushed too hard all at once, his father would just leave. Deciding to err on the side of caution Legolas said, “What does being drunk have to do with anything? I’ve told you, I’m not that drunk.” At least, he wasn’t compared to earlier before he’d fallen asleep._ _ _ _

____“Yes, you really are, and if you’re still wondering about it when you aren’t drunk, I’ll gladly explain it to you. Until then, settle down and try not to do anything you’ll regret later. Unless you’d rather go off to bed?” Thranduil said the last bit in an oddly hopeful manner._ _ _ _

____Legolas frowned, slightly hurt at the hopeful manner. “But I haven’t seen you since the morning meal...” Legolas shifted uneasily, now wondering if Thranduil picking him up off his chair really had been a signal that he wished to be alone. Legolas looked down, shoulders drooping as the hurt that had surfaced at being ignored at breakfast returned in full force, replacing the confidence that had risen at the slight arousal that had surfaced in Thranduil’s expression. Maybe if Legolas made up for biting him, his father would want him to stay, or at least wouldn’t be so angry at him. “Are you really that angry with me? You could lick _my_ ear if you want... Or bite it, if you wanted too...” Legolas added the last bit reluctantly, as no doubt his father would make the bite _hurt_ , but it was only fair. Legolas had bit him first, and _he_ hadn’t been gentle about it either. Legolas shifted his eyes to look at the spot he’d bitten and winced. It was still darkening. Most likely, it would turn into a bruise. Thranduil’s eyes darted to the side, undoubtedly looking at the ear Legolas had offered to let him bite. Legolas shivered nervously at the _eager_ look Thranduil gave him._ _ _ _

____Legolas was just wondering whether asking his father to be gentle would help any, when Thranduil abruptly closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Precisely ten seconds later, he opened them once more, then in short, clipped tones said, “Go to bed, Legolas.”_ _ _ _

____Legolas felt his stomach drop as Thranduil began to push him away, and Legolas threw his arms around his father, gripping tightly. He may not be anywhere near as strong as Thranduil, but he could make it more difficult. “No! Adar, you aren’t the least bit rational about this.” Thranduil’s attempt to push him off was halfhearted at best, and with effort Legolas managed to squirm away from his hands and press closely against his father’s side. “Please, don’t send me away,” he said softly, plaintively. “I haven’t seen you since this morning, and even then you were too hurried to even sit down with me to eat.”_ _ _ _

____Thranduil shifted Legolas away a little, and although Legolas wasn’t happy with the space, as Thranduil had stopped trying to push him off the chair altogether, Legolas decided to just go with it. Thranduil sighed again, and leaned his head back to rest against the back of the chair. “You saw me at the evening meal,” Thranduil said toward the ceiling, sounding resigned._ _ _ _

____Legolas moved a little closer, only to stop when his father reached up and yanked on his hair again. “That doesn’t count! We were both busy with other things, and we barely talked at all!” And that obnoxious adviser had been lurking near his father again, laughing like an idiot and monopolizing his attention with those patently false concerns over the ongoing drama that had started with the rats in the grain. Legolas had had to drive him off by skillfully – and sneakily – moving the adviser’s wineglass while no one had been looking, making him spill it all over himself when his arm had knocked it over. Legolas’s triumph had been short lived, though, as something had always kept either Legolas or Thranduil busy throughout the rest of the meal._ _ _ _

____Thranduil relented with a sigh. One of his father’s hands caressed the side of his face, tipping it upward. “Ah, ion nín, have you been feeling neglected after only one day?”_ _ _ _

____Legolas focused off to the side on the empty wine bottle, a little embarrassed as he mumbled out his answer, “Maybe. Just a little.” He leaned into the caress._ _ _ _

____“How about I read aloud to the both of us then?” Thranduil asked. “That seems safe enough.”_ _ _ _

____Legolas tilted his head and nodded, pleasantly surprised at the turn of events. It’d been years since the last time Thranduil had read to him, so Legolas was understandably confused to have the option offered to him now._ _ _ _

____Thranduil had a lovely reading voice, deep and resonant. He could draw Legolas in with his voice, captivate his attention and leave him unable to direct his attention elsewhere for as long as he spoke. He took the chance to wiggle closer, fitting himself comfortably against Thranduil with his head tucked under Thranduil’s chin as Thranduil reached over Legolas to grab one of the books off the table between the two chairs. Thranduil sighed. “You are determined to test my willpower today, aren’t you? _Fine_ , you can stay there, as long as you keep you mouth to yourself, and you _stop_ squirming about. Move again, and I’ll dump you on the floor and go to bed.”_ _ _ _

____Legolas stared wide eyed at him. “Not to worry, Adar, I shall try my best.” He tried to _think_ his sincerity at his father. _ _ _ _

____Thranduil rolled his eyes with a soft huff. “I suppose that will have to be good enough. What are you in the mood for? Something light?”_ _ _ _

____“No poems.” Thranduil loved poems, and while he sounded _lovely_ reciting some of the longer sagas, Thranduil’s preference was for overly complicated ones that required an elf’s full faculties to fully appreciate._ _ _ _

____Thranduil chuckled. “No, no poems. I was thinking more along the lines of this,” he said, holding up a book._ _ _ _

____Legolas lifted his head to see the book his father was holding up, and he nodded at the selection before settling his head back down. It was a book of traditional Silvan tales. Legolas had heard them many times before, and while they weren’t typically what he wished to listen to, he wouldn’t need to focus in order to follow the story. Thranduil started with a story from the middle of the collection, and Legolas drifted as he listened, two stories passing as he listened to the sure, steady voice rise and fall with events in each story. Thranduil lovely, deep voice succeeded as it usually did in completely captivating Legolas and after the first ten minutes or so of reading, the slightly stilted manner he’d started off with evened out into his normal tones._ _ _ _

____Legolas hummed contentedly, shifting slightly before remembering his promise and looking up at his father to check his expression. Legolas relaxed when he didn’t seem annoyed at the movement, and only Thranduil paused to adjust Legolas slightly and take another drink from his wine glass before continuing on._ _ _ _

____The movement, and the abrasive slide of the fabric under his cheek, reminded Legolas of how annoying the slightly scratchy outer material of Thranduil’s formal robes were, and Legolas frowned. It had been so much more comfortable to be close to each other back in Imladris when his father hadn’t had all these articles of stiff, scratchy clothing on. Legolas could feel his fëa relaxing, and the slightly strangled sensation that lingered from earlier eased slightly the longer he stayed cuddled up to Thranduil, and surely being closer would be that much better, would it not? If only Thranduil wasn’t so enamored with wearing so very many different types of clothing at once. Legolas sighed. Thranduil would undoubtedly consider trying to take off his outer robe as _moving_ , but maybe if Legolas was careful – like how he’d moved that wineglass at dinner – he could still get at some of the softer inside layers without disturbing him._ _ _ _

____Luckily, Thranduil’s robes parted in the front, and perhaps if Legolas was _very_ careful, he could slip his hand underneath all those pesky clothes without Thranduil deciding that Legolas had pushed too far and that he’d had enough. Legolas slid his hand back from where he had it wrapped around Thranduil’s waist and started to slowly inch it between the folds of Thranduil’s robe._ _ _ _

____Thranduil paused in his reading, sounding a little exasperated. “And _what_ are you doing _now_?” _ _ _ _

____Thranduil’s voice made him freeze in place. “Ah… Nothing?”_ _ _ _

____“Well, try continuing to do ‘nothing’ without attempting to get inside my clothing.”_ _ _ _

____“I was just trying to get closer.” Legolas sulked, cheeks burning hotly under Thranduil’s glare, and he withdrew his hand obediently and placed it back around his father’s waist. He wondered whether he should remind Thranduil that he had at least kept his mouth to himself, then decided against it. Legolas didn’t particularly want Thranduil to decide to go to bed._ _ _ _

____“How could we _possibly_ get any closer?” Thranduil said skeptically, setting the book aside on the table._ _ _ _

____“Your clothes are scratchy, and you wear too many of them. If you took off some of them, we could get closer.” _Obviously.__ _ _ _

____“If you don’t like them, Legolas, you can go sit in your own chair. Otherwise, sit still and stop complaining. Unless you’d rather end our evening here.”_ _ _ _

____Legolas had a feeling that, had he not been impaired by alcohol, he would be taking Thranduil’s words much more seriously. Even with the alcohol, the slight sense that he might have been behaving _really_ inappropriately started to seep through the haze created by the alcohol, and he felt the tips of his ears start to darken from more than just the wine. “I apologize, Adar.” He apologized, eyes lowered. “I will do better.” Hopefully._ _ _ _

____He felt a slight tinge of surprise from his father, right before Thranduil softly murmured, “The alcohol is already burning off a little, is it?” His father’s hand cupped the back of his head fondly before trailing down to his back where it stayed. “Good.” Thranduil took another drink for his glass._ _ _ _

____Legolas nodded and sighed. “Will you continue reading?” Legolas asked as he dropped his head down to Thranduil’s shoulder, grumbling with discontent as his cheek met the abrasive material that made up the shoulders and lapels of his father’s overly ornate robe. If only his father had stripped at least the outer robe off before sitting down, it would be so much nicer, and the reminder that as long as Thranduil wore such ornate clothing, Legolas would have to wear similar clothing while in attendance in the palace, reawakened some of his earlier annoyance with Thranduil’s clothing. “Why do you have to wear such stiff, overly decorated clothing?,” he complained, lifting his head again and scrunching up his nose. “In our chambers at the very least you shouldn’t wear your full court ensemble. This is our _private_ chambers, not the throne room.” Despite knowing full well Thranduil found it annoying, he squirmed discontentedly and poked a finger at the rough material. “I certainly don’t wear so many layers, much less layers that are so damned _scratchy_.” Legolas blinked. “ _Are_ your inner robes any better? Please tell me you haven’t had your inner robes embroidered as well.” Legolas didn’t wait for any response, instead taking the initiative to try to slide his hand once again into the front of Thranduil’s robe, but found his wrist gripped harshly just as Legolas’s fingertips met the - blessedly - soft fabric of one of Thranduil’s inner layers before his wrist was jerked out with a near silent growl._ _ _ _

____Thranduil took a long drink from his glass before placing it firmly down on the table, chuckling darkly as he said, “Well, that commitment lasted long. What was that, all of about twenty seconds? Perhaps a little _discipline_ will impress upon you the importance not testing me.” Thranduil didn’t wait for Legolas to reply, just tightened the hand resting on Legolas’s back, pinning him in place as he released Legolas wrist to slide his other hand underneath the hair at Legolas’s neck and rub the cuff of the sleeve of his robe against Legolas’s neck. “How about the cuff, Legolas, does that feel _scratchy_ too?”_ _ _ _

____The ornate embroidery on the sleeve scratched irritatingly against the sensitive skin, making Legolas squawk and try to wiggle away from it, but Thranduil had been expecting that and tightened his hold further as he continued to drag the material slowly up and down the line of Legolas’s neck. “ _Adar!_ ” He complained loudly and attempted to duck his head away when he failed to break Thranduil’s hold on him._ _ _ _

____Thranduil hummed darkly at him, “Oh? Resisting my attempts to instill some discipline in you? If you don’t like it on your neck, perhaps you would prefer it on one of your ears.” He followed the movement of Legolas’s head as he tried to move away, trailing the edge of his cuff up Legolas’s ear and around the point several times, paying special attention to the point. “Hmmm,” he hummed, “I _do_ like that better.” Thranduil rasped the embroidery against it, never letting up or responding to Legolas’s pained whimpers until Legolas finally ducked his head down against his father, still trembling at each pass his father made other his ear, but no longer resisting or move his ear away. He whimpered against Thranduil’s neck, rubbing the tears that had leaked from his eyes against his father’s neck as the hand that had been restraining him started sliding up his back toward his other ear. “You still haven’t answered my question though, Legolas, do my cuffs feel scratchy? Hmm… Perhaps _one_ isn’t enough, and you think you need to feel them on both ears. Is that the problem?”_ _ _ _

____Legolas pressed his face harder against his neck, nodding frantically in response, fresh tears seeping from his eyes as Thranduil rubbed the jewel inlaid embroidery on the cuffs against _both_ ears, trailing it up the line of his ears and then rasping the delicate pointed tip against the multiple strands of silver and gold thread woven into the fabric. “ _Ada!_ ” He begged finally, trembling and whimpering with each slow pass the cuffs made over his ears. _ _ _ _

____The soft cries finally made Thranduil relent, and Legolas moaned in confusion as Thranduil rubbed at his ears with the soft pads of his fingertips, soothing where the rough material had rubbed the skin red. He wasn’t _quite_ finished though, as after a few light touches of his fingertips, he pressed down a little harder against Legolas’s ears, pinching them gently between his fingers, and the light pressure against his poor sore, oversensitive ears was more than enough to have Legolas squirming and whimpering once more. “Such an ill-mannered little elf you’ve been. Get drunk on _my_ wine, while sitting in _my_ chair, Legolas, and you still have the gall to complain about my clothing not being _soft_ enough when I let it all pass by without remark? When I let you curl up on me and read to you as you so like? And to have you _bite_ me… Tsk, tsk, such audacity you have, ion nín.”_ _ _ _

____Legolas couldn’t reply, wasn’t even really paying attention to anything his father was saying except for his tone of voice and the hands pinching the delicate point of his ear. He trembled in confusion as his body heat flowed through his body from more than the wine and as he recognized the swirl of tension in his stomach for what it was. “ _Ada_ ,” he cried out, softly, confused at the complicated swirl of emotions and the way he was reacting to them. He trembled again, both hands coming up to fist the front of Thranduil’s robes as he tensed. The fingers on his ears gentled once more, rubbing light little circles into them, and Legolas whimpered again, panting against his father’s throat._ _ _ _

____He felt so _hot_. Too much heat in his ears, flooding his hröa, and making him feel hazy and nervous. He tossed his head, eyes widening as _other_ parts of his body started to heat as well. What should he do?_ _ _ _

____What _could_ he do? He wanted to press himself even tightly to his father – wanted it desperately – Legolas started squirming, but this time in an attempt to move away, put some distance between them as his hröa was flooded with foreign urges, Legolas’s heart beat wildly at the decidedly unhelpful images that his mind was supplying to him of how much better his father’s hands would feel if they went and stroked something _other_ than his ears, and he froze in place feeling overloaded and confused by all the signals his hröa was sending him._ _ _ _

____The hands abruptly released him, removed themselves from his body, and he gave a little whimper, feeling as though he’d become unmoored in a storm. He wanted the hands back on him, wanted them to keep caressing his ears. Thranduil shushed him gently, both hands gently cupping Legolas’s face and tilting it up to press a light kiss to his forehead before releasing him again. Suddenly his father was projecting _calm_ so strongly that Legolas couldn’t help but relax bonelessly, the strength of it dulling the rough edges of his panic and cooling the heat that had flooded him._ _ _ _

____Thranduil stood up, placing Legolas lightly on his feet, steadying him until Legolas could stand on his own while gently combing through Legolas’s hair with his fingers until he’d calmed fully. Legolas then felt his head tipped back by a gentle hand and found Thranduil studying him closely. After a minute, Thranduil nodded to himself, and Legolas felt himself turned around and gently pushed toward his bed chamber. “I think that is enough reading for tonight. Go off to sleep, ion nín, and be prepared for an early morning.”_ _ _ _

____Legolas blinked and trembled, feeling cold and alone now that heat that had flooded him had started to recede. He stepped toward his father, but stopped when Thranduil held out a hand to stop him. “Ada,” he said, _begged_ rather, though he didn’t quite know what he wanted._ _ _ _

____“Hush, Legolas. I will be waking you up bright and early tomorrow morning, no matter how you are feeling, so go get some sleep.”_ _ _ _

____Legolas felt an edge of apprehension at that final sentence, as the haze of alcohol lessened, and, unlike earlier, was quite aware of how his hröa would feel the next day after imbibing an amount of alcohol he was unaccustomed to. He couldn’t resist trying to go to his father again, and he looking longingly Thranduil as he tried to step forward, but Thranduil stopped him with a look of his own._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____Legolas looked down and hunched his shoulders, and Thranduil chuckled, “Do not try to manipulate me _now_ , Legolas, not when your emotions are becoming so clear.”_ _ _ _

____Legolas frowned mulishly at Thranduil. “And I suppose you are the only one meant to do the manipulating then?”_ _ _ _

____“Perhaps when you are less drunk... In the light of the day, you’ll see things differently.” Thranduil paused, frowning, and looked away. He tilted his head, sighed, then nodded to himself before meeting his son’s eyes again. “I… I think I need to be alone right now, and I think you would benefit from it as well. Perhaps it would be best if you moved back to your other set of chambers just for the time being.”_ _ _ _

____Legolas looked up at him, eyes narrowing in surprised anger._ _ _ _

____Thranduil held up a hand, cutting him off before he could even start voicing his anger. “It was just an idea, as you seemed awfully panicked over your reaction to what happened, and I thought you might want some space of your own.” He paused, a war raging across his features before that hopefully blank mask fell across his expression. Legolas wanted to claw away the shields and just _feel_ the riot of emotion that so clearly played underneath the falsely calm exterior. Thranduil said finally, softly, “If you don’t wish you leave, you don’t have to. I just wanted you to know it was an option, as even now the bond is still telling me you’re feeling nervous and uneasy and near panicking. And _now_ you’re feeling even angier. What is it now?”_ _ _ _

____“If I wished to leave, I would. I am not some elfling who needs you to tell me where I should rest at night.”_ _ _ _

____“As I recall, it was when you first decided that you needed more space and moved to your own chambers that you suddenly needed me to remind you of where _your_ quarters were, not when you were an elfling residing in my own chambers.” _ _ _ _

____Legolas scowled. “You, Adar, are as charming as ever.”_ _ _ _

____“I do try.”_ _ _ _

____“Try _ing_ , maybe.” _ _ _ _

____“Completely and utterly.”_ _ _ _

____He found himself somehow shuffled quickly off to his room without remembering the steps he’d taken to get there, but he paused at the door to say, “And I am sorry I bruised your ear.”_ _ _ _

____“Bruised my ear?” Thranduil’s eyebrows rose dismissively. “You didn’t bruise it. I am quite a bit harder to bruise than that, Legolas.”_ _ _ _

____“I’d check again, Ada, because it looks like a bruise to me.” Legolas funneled energy into keeping his shields strong and firmly in place. The marks on _his_ ears would fade into nothing by the morning. The mark he’d left on his father, however, looked like it would last for _ days_. Legolas stifled a snicker as he heard his father move toward the mirror and then swear again behind him._ _

__Would anyone have the gall to ask his father about it? Perhaps Legolas would ask, just to see the reaction of everyone around him. And to see if Thranduil would admit that it had been _Legolas_ who put it there. _ _

__After all, Legolas had just wanted a nice quiet evening. Trust _Thranduil_ to turn something as simple as reading into something confusing. Why did he have to make everything so _difficult_?_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to my beta Catarrhini for all the help and many suggestions with this chapter!


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